


The Sea Queen - Victor of the 70th Hunger Games

by Annamcleish



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 70th Hunger Games, Arena (Hunger Games), Character Death, District 4 (Hunger Games), Earthquakes, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hunger Games, Hunger Games Tributes, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Love, Male-Female Friendship, The Capitol (Hunger Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annamcleish/pseuds/Annamcleish
Summary: Lia knows nothing about weapons or survival. Her father never set her up for Four's academy and she's never been trained by her parents to prepare for the games. Lia is kind, she is gentle and she listens to people, watches their behaviours and their interests and lets them talk her ear off when they need to vent. She isn't the kind of person who wants to win the games, and that sentiment is even stronger when one of her best friends is reaped alongside her. How is she going to get through training, let alone the games, when she wants nothing more than for her friend to get home instead of herself?
Kudos: 4





	1. Reaping Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is the first work in a series that I will be doing. The future works will include details and characters we are all a lot more familiar with as they will be set in the known Hunger Games Literary Universe (prior to 74th Games, the 75th Games and the Rebellion).
> 
> I aim to have the second work up in November after I have completed my university papers for the semester. If you have any questions or feedback please feel free to leave them in the comments :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy the read!

I’ve always found it strange how us in Four are seen as part of the career pack if we look promising enough. One and Two always have a deal to bring the tributes from Four into their team if they fit their criteria – strong, fast, skilled and smart. If someone doesn’t qualify, they are the first ones to die just in case the pack judged them poorly. I’ve seen the look in the eyes of our district’s twelve-year-olds when they come face to face with those in District One and Two, a sword or spear in hand whilst the kids have nothing. They haven’t even had the chance to pick up a weapon to defend themselves. Even if a tribute does qualify, there’s no real choice to be had. How do you say no to four people who will outright kill you in the arena if you negate them from the beginning? At least give yourself the chance to last a few days, a week maybe, before you have to fend for.  
I’ve never agreed with teaming up with One and Two. It’s stupid, unfair and pointless. They don’t care about us. They won’t spare our lives at the end of the day – they’re just wanting to use our tributes to better situate themselves in the arena. To instil fear into the other tributes so that they don’t try and attack them when they still have numbers. The Career districts train for half their lives to win, to kill and slaughter and win so their districts can have something to be happy about. They send their kids into academies, forcing them to give up their childhoods and their naivety so that they make the district proud. It’s sick. Over the last few years, Four has started shifting from the Career pack, learning from our past victors. Mags won her games through teamwork with the other tribute from Four and through skill and determination. Not the Careers. Finnick won by himself, gaining favour with the Capitol and earning his weapons and food on his own without the careers’ help – though he did train for it for several years in Four’s academy. I think our tributes are much better off staying together or, if someone dies in the bloodbath, working alone. It’s not what many mentors or the academy kids believe, but it’s what I know I’ll stand by if I ever had my name plucked from the bowl.

Working alone tends to be what I do anyway. As an only child with two parents who work all day and come home to sit in relative silence until it’s time for dinner, I carry little conversation when I’m with people. I observe them, look at their patterns and habits as they talk and brag and gossip. I hold my opinions to myself - no one asks for them so there’s no need to publicise them. It’s not that people don’t like me; I’m well acquainted with people and many find me when they need a listening ear, I have a handful of people that I talk to and a few close friends who are used to my quiet disposition and tendency to keep my feelings and thoughts to myself. I like learning about people, about how they handle situations and lead discussions, what they find to be important or interesting as opposed to someone else. There’s plenty to learn through listening to people’s seemingly mindless rants.

“Lia, sweetheart, you need to get ready.”

I jump, turning my attention away from the blooming silverbell outside my window. Mama is leaning against my doorframe, arms loosely folded in front of her as her chestnut brown hair dances in the light breeze blowing through the room. Her tanned, wrinkling skin contrasts with the soft grey-blue in her eyes. Little puffs of clouds against worn leather. I nod, leaning over to the corner of my bed for my dress. Mama left it out this morning for me when I woke up, herding me to the main room for breakfast. I wave the sleeve to dismiss her and she pushes off the doorframe, shutting the door behind her.

Today is the Reaping, not my last unfortunately but should I be lucky enough this year and next year I won’t have to worry about it for a long time – not until I have children of my own in the far future. District Four doesn’t have dozens of volunteers like the career districts but the Reapings aren’t straight forward either, they can be unpredictable. There can be years at a time where the reaped remain the tributes, no volunteers coming forward. Other times there are two volunteers, the reaped walking away back to their families to survive another year. Sometimes these volunteers are at the older end of the spectrum, seventeen or eighteen. These are the “secretly” trained kids who put their hands up and go to the Capitol, hoping to make it through the games and come back home. Others are like Finnick was – young and naïve - though no one has come back that young except him.

I take little time to throw on the dark green sundress and a cardigan, needing something to pull between my fingers to hide my nerves. With one final nod to myself in the mirror, I leave the room. Mama and Papa’s voices carry from the main room, echoing against the empty hallway walls.

“She’s going to be fine, Tiberius.” Mama murmurs. “She’s a good girl.”

“I know she is. I’m just worried. If her name gets called someone will volunteer for her, right? She’s got so many friends, and there are at least a dozen girls her age in the academy, one of them will volunteer.”

Papa is nervous. I pad quietly over to the end of the corridor and peer around the corner; he’s wringing his hands and tapping his foot against the ground erratically. Mama is nervous too, but she’s doing her best to hide it. Her arms are straight by her side, fingers clutching the hem of her shirt as she shares a look with Papa. Her eyes glance over me. “Come sit, let me put up your hair.”

“You haven’t asked for tesserae, have you, Lia?”

“No, Papa, I haven’t. You told me not to.”

“Good. I just needed to make sure.” Papa gives me a tense smile. It’s forced and uncertain and a little wobbly.

Mama is quick and precise with her movements as she combs through my dark brown hair softly, collecting it up on the crown of my head and looping it through an elastic thrice over. She loosens the tightness of it a little by tugging the elastic away from my head, letting my hair relax into the bun, and using a finger she untucks several pieces of hair around the edges of my face, by my ears and at the highest points of my temples. I can’t see it, but I’ve seen it many times before; Mama says I look very beautiful when my hair is like this. I’ve never thought so myself – it’s just an easy way to keep my hair off my shoulders, but I let her have her fun.

“Alright, let’s go.”

I slip into a pair of brown sandals at the door before stepping out into the hot sunshine. The salt clings to the air, weighing every breeze with the taste of seawater and sand stirs around by our feet as the wind picks it up, twirling and tumbling along the dry dirt path towards the town centre. Other families walk the same path around us – young kids clinging to the legs of their older siblings and parents, some teenagers from school would be loud enough to hear several dozen metres away. Many small groups remain silent as we follow each other down the road, turning left at the t-intersection where the road slowly shifts from dirt to dirty brick. For another few minutes, it carries on like this until two lines form on the other side of the road, the throng of parents drifting further away as their children wait in line to be checked. I turn and nod at Mama and Papa, falling into line behind a boy shorter than me with sandy blond hair and a light brown shirt. It doesn’t take too long to get to the front of the line, the prick to the finger is quick and as the Peacekeeper scans my blood she nods and sends me away.

There’s no strict organisation to the pens. So long as we are in the right age group and boys are on one side girls on the other it is fine. You can be standing in a huddle with your friends, you can be standing on the edge of the pen holding the hand of a younger sibling, or vice versa, or you can simply stand alone and wait. The Peacekeepers don’t care so long as you are quiet.

Brooke spies me making my way down the aisle and takes my hand, pulling me into her side and wrapping her arm tightly around mine. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, no different from last time. You?”

“Still nervous.” Brooke frowns, glancing down at her scuffed shoes. “Alessandra isn’t any help. She’s been crying all morning.”  
Alessandra is Brooke’s nineteen-year-old sister. Alessandra’s boyfriend was reaped last year and he didn’t come back. She used to be a charismatic, extroverted girl who was very popular. Now she spends her days between working and hiding in her room. At least she didn’t watch the games last year – she saved herself from seeing Beck’s stomach sliced open and his guts spilling out during the bloodbath.

“Zyron wants to say something.” Brooke tilts my head around to face him amongst the throng of eighteen-year-old boys across the square. His black hair is loosely styled in waves, his fringe parted down the centre and brushing in front of his brown eyes. His head is cocked to the side, the silent ‘Are you okay?’ easily readable on his face. Next to him, Rhys stands tall switching his attention between Zyron, us and Harrison talking to his brother Alex in the seventeen-year-olds pen. I hold my thumb up, switching to shaking my hand lightly – I’m okay, just so-so.

Zyron nods, pointing at both of us and making a gesture of dismissal. You two won’t get picked. He then points at Harrison’s back and shrugs, palms up with a sarcastic frown on his face. We see Rhys scoff. Him maybe.

I roll my eyes as his attempt at humour. The three of them have been our friends since we were five, even though they are a year above us. Really Zyron only six months older, Rhys eight months and Harrison four so becoming friends wasn’t that difficult. Though Alex is our year, he has other friends he spends most of his time with at the academy, so we don’t see him very often. He’s also wrapped around his girlfriend Abigail’s finger so even if he’s with us he can leave almost immediately when she calls his attention over. I send a flick towards Zyron and glance up at the stage before the Justice Building. A few of the victors have found seats, along with the Mayor and our escort Phiona. Phiona has been the district’s escort for a few years now, even though she’s only in her late twenties. Her bright blue eyes and sleek blonde hair are the envy of many girls, some even going as far as to claim that it’s got gold and silver powders in it – “It can’t be all iridescent and shiny like that naturally, she has to be spending hundreds on it”. The clock on the screen shows its 11:58 – two more minutes until we begin.

At the side of the stage, two more people step up, one assisting the other. The two watch the steps beneath their feet until they finish ascending and the one assisting straightens up, gaining at least a foot on the old woman beside him. Mags and Finnick.

Finnick has been busy since he turned sixteen. When he returned home after his victory tour he could always be found somewhere in the district, either by the ocean or in his house in Victor’s Village. The day of his sixteenth birthday, Snow came and visited him. It wasn’t hard to miss the increased security at the train station and the mass of peacekeepers at the entrance to Victor’s Village. Within that week, Finnick’s dad was in a fishing accident, an accidental drowning which was a shock to the whole district. The next day Finnick was gone, jumping on a train heading for the Capitol where he would stay for weeks at a time before returning. His arrogant, prideful appearance slowly started turning in on itself when he was out of sight. He’d smirk and say something witty every time we saw him during his visits to the markets or the beach but the life in his eyes was fading, leaving him looking emptier each reunion. For someone who stays in the Capitol so often, a place of riches and endless mounds of food and luxury, he sure looks miserable when he heads for the station.

Thud thud thud.

Phiona’s taps on the mic send my heart into my throat, my hand clutching Brooke’s tightly.

“Welcome, everyone, to the Reaping of the Seventieth Hunger Games.” She beams, voice smoothly flittering through the square and silencing the few quiet conversations in the pens and the surrounding crowd. “First, we have a video from the Capitol.”  
The same video from the Capitol as last year, probably the same video played at all Reapings since the beginning of the games. The audio drones on and I find a much better use for my focus; I scan the victors' faces, watching their brows furrow and their jaws clench as Snow’s voice continues filling the hot air. I watch their fingers twitch, their feet tap anxiously against the stage, and the occasional clammy hand wipe sweat against the fabric of their pants or skirts. Having to sit through this after experiencing the games first-hand must be difficult. Knowing that everything he’s saying is either a sick fantasy or a lost dream, the hopes of winning far outside the sights of many tributes who are sent there. The victory and pride to your district part is a lie too – how would winning, killing other children, be something to cheer over? Something to applaud and congratulate someone for?

The video ends, Phiona picking up where she left off with ease. “Now, we will see who the chosen two will be. For the girls,” she struts over to the bowl in front of our side of the square, slowly lowering her hand inside. She selects one, walking back to the mic leisurely. Brooke’s fingers dig into the flesh of my palm as her breath catches in her throat, everyone holding their breath as Phiona unfurls the paper in hand.

“Lia Williams.”

That’s me. My mouth opens, eyes wide as the announcement registers in my brain. Girls around me stare and bit their lips, some choking on sobs – whether they are sobs for me or for their luck I don’t know. I turn to face Brooke, her blue eyes pooling with tears. I then look around for some of the academy girls, waiting to see if they’ll throw their hands up and take my place. The only thing I see is remorse and fear in the eyes of Teagan and Danica, twins who have been training since they were twelve. Slowly prying my hand free of Brooke’s grip, I pat her shoulder lightly and step towards the edge of the pen. Girls touch my arms and back as I pass them, apologising to me under their breaths and telling me that it’s going to be okay. No one speaks up though. No one volunteers for me. A Peacekeeper raises the rope for me to duck under and I nod in thanks, entering the aisle splitting the boys and girls. Glancing over at the boys I see many expressions and emotions cross their faces Shock. Disbelief. Grief. I keep walking, turning my gaze to the stage, and I catch Finnick looking at me. His expression is difficult to piece together, his jaw is tight and his fist resting on his knee clenched but his eyes are soft – soft but devoid of any further emotion. He nods at me as I reach the stage, turning to take the steps and Phiona’s extended hand. My shaking hand rests in hers as she helps me up and leads me to my spot looking out to the crowd.

There are too many sad faces. Too many familiar crying faces. I lock my gaze on the nail head a metre ahead of where I’m standing, fingers pulling down my cardigan sleeves to find purchase in the material. If I’m lucky that will make my shaking less noticeable. Still no volunteers.  
“And now for the boys.”  
My shoulders sag as the opening for my freedom slams shut. Phinoa’s heels echo throughout the square as she crosses over to the second bowl, returning to the mic shortly after. There’s a rustle that carries through the air as she unfurls the paper.

“Rhys Halibut.”

My gaze shoots up to find Rhys. Zyron and Harrison next to him both look torn, Harrison’s mouth open to speak, but Rhys shakes his head. He inclines his head towards the stage. Towards me. They nod, shoulders dropping as they sigh and move to let him leave the pen. More sobbing kicks up from the girl’s side of the square forcing me to bite back a sour laugh. I’m sure his many admirers will miss him, though I doubt they’d be willing to take my place now knowing he’s coming with me.

Rhys’s long strides clear the aisle in no time, and he taps a finger against the back of my hand hidden in my sleeve once he’s onstage. I take his hand immediately, needing the support as Phiona addresses the crowd. “I present to you the tributes from District Four; Lia Williams and Rhys Halibut.”

Looking out to the rest of the district, I find Papa and Mama holding each other as tears stream down their faces. Raising our united hands up, I swallow thickly to fight the lump cementing itself in my throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

A Peacekeeper rests his hand on my shoulder and we drop our arms, Rhys quickly turning us around to put a hand against my back and lead me into the Justice Building as the Peacekeeper leads the way, taking us down several corridors lined with previous Mayors on District Four and at the end of the hall, on a wall all to himself, President Snow’s portrait stares at us as we come to a stop between two doors. The Peacekeeper opens the one on the left and extends his arm out to Rhys. “Your final goodbyes will be held in here.”

Rhys nods, rubbing my back comfortingly as he looks down at me. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

The door closes behind him and the Peacekeeper walks over to open the door for me, once again extending an arm out. “This room will be yours. I’m sure your loved ones will be here to see you soon.”

“Thank you.”

With little steps, I shuffle inside and the door closes behind me. The room is bare, furnishing sparse except for a couch and a table pushes against the far wall. The windows are barred, as expected for a temporary waiting room of a tribute, but I walk up to it and glance outside. A silverbell, taller and fuller than mine at home, stands proudly behind the Justice Building and in the near distance, three blocks away, the train station taunts me with a train pulling in, Peacekeepers disembarking and lining the path we will take in less than an hour.

There’s a knock on the door before it opens and Mama and Papa step in, rushing to me as they weep and repeat my name in broken cries. Papa sobs, his whole body shaking as he holds me tightly. “My girl, my little Lia, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t train you for this. I’m sorry I can’t keep you from leaving.”

“It’s okay, Papa.”

“You and Rhys can do this.” Mama whimpers, trying to hold back tears but as she strokes my hair and lays kisses on the crown of my head I can feel the droplets wet my hair.

“You two are bright, you can think of ways to get through this. You need to stick together okay, you two can’t let yourselves be parted. As soon as you are lifted into the arena you find him, and you stick together.”

“Yes, Mama.”

My answers are all short, almost robotic in their delivery. What else do I say? How do I fix their broken hearts as they say goodbye to their only daughter? Their only child? I just let them hug me, kiss me, tell me what I need to do and let them believe that I will be okay, that I will survive and come back to them. They are escorted out shortly after, presumably to wait to see Rhys. The next people that come in are Zyron, Brooke and Harrison.

“Why didn’t anyone volunteer for you?” Harrison frowns, wrapping his arms around me. “Charlotte has been bragging about volunteering since she was given the go-ahead. This was her last chance, same with Diana and Winna. Why didn’t they volunteer?”

“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Brooke mutters, pushing him aside to give me a strong, tight hug. “You two have each other’s backs, you don’t need the other Careers, okay? You two can get through this on your own.”

“You know I won’t side with the other Careers, Boo.” I sigh, closing my eyes to soak up her warmth. “I’d rather kill myself than team up with them.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Brooke hisses, holding me at arm’s length and Zyron swoops in, pulling me into his chest and kissing my forehead.

“You two will be alright, know that we’re always with you, yeah. Even if you get separated for whatever reason, you’re not alone. Remember that.”

“Thank you, Zy, Haz, Boo. Thank you for everything.”

“It was a pleasure, really we should be thanking you.” Harrison smiles, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You are the kindest, smartest girl in the whole District. It has been an honour calling you my friend.”

“Use that in the Capitol.” Brooke insists, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Use your charm and kind heart to get sponsors. They will love you.”

“We’ll see.” I nod, catching the door opening once more and the Peacekeeper motioning for the others to leave. “Please visit Mama and Papa often, they’ll need support from people they know.”

“Of course.” Zyron squeezes my hand as the others slowly head out, watery smiles and glossy eyes directed towards me before they walk down the hallway. Zyron’s final wave is the last I see of him before Mr and Mrs Halibut walk out of Rhys’ room and head straight into mine, my parents slipping into Rhys’ room behind them before the Peacekeeper closes the door to my room.

Mrs Halibut is weeping loudly, a handkerchief pressed up against her eyes and Mr Halibut is rubbing her back, his breath shaky but otherwise he’s composed. “Lia.”

“Mr Halibut.”

Mrs Halibut lurches forwards, folding herself over me and enveloping me as she cries into my neck. Mr Halibut watches her solemnly, hands slipping into the pockets of his pants. “It seems like only yesterday you and Rhys first became friends. To think this is where you end up.”

“A sad fate indeed.”

“I know I can’t ask anything of you, given you’re in the same place as Rhysie is,” Mr Halibut pauses, clearing this throat and blinking rapidly. “But we both know you’re the brains between you two. Please, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. He doesn’t need to be heroic or selfless, we’re already so proud of him. If he has to kill someone so that him, you, or both of you survive, please tell him that we won’t think any different of him. The games are ruthless, you have to do things you would never do, and though it’s horrible, it’s okay. The same goes for you. Don’t overthink it. Don’t dwell on it afterwards either, you need to keep your head clear. Promise me.”

“I promise.” I nod, bringing my arms up to hold Mrs Halibut closer as she weeps harder. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs Halibut takes a deep breath, pulling back and placing her hands on my cheeks. “Sweet Lia, District Four will be a darker place without you. I hope those fanatics in the Capitol see how beautiful and angelic you are so that they can sponsor someone who really deserves it.”

“Thank you, Mrs Halibut.”

The door opens again, the Peacekeeper walking inside and standing with the door open. No more visitors then. Mr and Mrs Halibut collect themselves, heading out with a final nod and ‘good luck’. They meet my parents in the hallway and the four walk out of sight, uncovering a Peacekeeper standing in Rhys’ room by the open door too.

“It’s time to go.”

I nod, wiping my hands against my dress skirt. The Peacekeeper in Rhys’ room strides out into the hall, followed by Rhys. I look at the Peacekeeper in my room and he nods, indicating for me to join Rhys. Together we walk through the hallways back to the front room of the building where Finnick stands next to Mayor Bluehurst and another Peacekeeper.

“I’m sure you both know that District Four will be rooting for you.” The Mayor states, bracing a hand on Rhys' shoulder before patting my arm. “You’re in good hands with Finnick here, listen to him and train hard and hopefully we will see one of you back here soon.”

“Yes Sir,” we reply, Rhys’ clearer baritone voice drowning out my whisper of a response.

The Mayor's eyes linger on me for a few seconds before he turns to the Peacekeepers and nods, stepping away from us. “May the odds be ever in your favour.”

The Peacekeeper leading us starts walking again, this time down the main foyer towards the back of the building where the road will be lined with Peacekeepers and District Four citizens. Rhys takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles as we follow in silence, Finnick behind us and the last Peacekeeper bringing up the rear. Our journey is short, the path wide enough that we don’t have any problems moving between the Peacekeepers to the station platform where the train awaits with doors wide open. I keep my focus on my feet, making sure I don’t trip over elevated ridges or potholes. Before the ramp up to the platform, Rhys’ grip on my hand tightens and I have to hide the wince eager to rise up on my face. In a few seconds, we clear the distance between the ramp and the train, and the doors shut behind us, followed by the train smoothly accelerating and pulling out of the station.


	2. Heading to the Capitol

“We’ll arrive in the evening; it doesn’t take long to get there so we should watch the other reapings and see who we’re up against. Then we can start working out an angle for you two.” Finnick notes, stepping around to face us. He lets out a sigh. “I didn’t expect you two to be my tributes this year, or ever. Neither of you take tesserae, neither of you are in the academy and neither of you would volunteer for someone else, not that that’s a bad thing.”

“You never know,” Rhys shrugs, dropping my hand now that we are out of the public’s scrutiny. “There are some who claim to train for years to volunteer, yet they hush up when the time comes.”

I glance up at him, his brow is furrowed slightly, and his jaw is clenched, a sour expression beginning to peak through his features. “You saw Charlotte, didn’t you? That’s why you put my hand in a death grip.”

Rhys immediately reddens at that, collecting my hand to rub away the fingernail dents he left behind. Finnick chuckles, rolling his shoulders back and turning on his heels to head down the carriage, glancing back at us to make sure we’re following.

For the next hour, we watch the other Reapings, making small comments about the Careers and outliers who look strong, people to keep an eye on in the training centre. As the tributes from Twelve raise their hands the camera shops recording, ending the recap. Finnick inhales, relaxing into the plush sofa and surveys our expressions and statures; I’m sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the sofa's ends and Rhys occupies the grey single-seater adjacent to me. “So, tell me what you can do. I know of you, I have ideas for your interviews and in-Capitol personas, but I need to know what your strengths and weaknesses are. Rhys, you’ve been fishing with your dad for years now, right?”

“Yeah, started when I was fifteen. I carry the nets in when they’re full and he’s shown me how to handle a trident and a spear, though I’m not great at either.”

“Can you handle a knife?”

“Yeah, and I’m used to blades like machetes but anything bigger I’m going to need to practice with a lot.”

“Okay, we can work on that. Even if you’re not completely comfortable with tridents and spears it’s a good start, that gives you more variety of choices. What about you, Lia?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I haven’t handled any weapons. I’m not that strong either.”

“Lia is extremely smart and perceptive, and she’s fast,” Rhys interjects, kicking me lightly with his foot. “And you’re one of the strongest girls in Four, give yourself some credit.”

“That’s not really saying much, Alex could easily beat me and he’s not strong like you guys.” I point to Rhys and Finnick. “What are the easiest weapons to get used to in such a short amount of time? A short-distance and a long-distance would be ideal, I don’t want to waste my time trying to learn how to use something correctly if it’s a useless weapon.”

“Short distance for you I would say knives, they’re light and you can use them when you’re in close proximity to someone. You can use them as long-distance weapons too but bear in mind there will be career tributes who have been training with knives since they were young so you don’t want to be giving them the chance to use your weapons against you. A spear is light enough that you can carry it around but it’s strong enough to use to block attacks and can be lethal if you are a great shot. We’ll see how good you are at throwing them in the training centre. Being smart and perceptive is a great asset to have, you don’t know how dumb others can be in the arena.” Finnick shuffles around, positioning himself with his arm over the back of the sofa leaning up against the armrest so he can face us. “What about allies, do you like the look of any of them?”

“Shouldn’t we be asking you that?” Rhys counters. “You’re the one who knows which kind of people are good allies and which are bad.”

“Then I’ll ask the obvious: do you want to be in the Career pack?”

I shake my head adamantly. “They’re going to kill us off once they’ve used us to their advantage, I’d rather not be in the same vicinity as them when they can decide to drop us whenever they want.”

“Okay, that’s a fair point, but they are the strongest unit. That boy from Ten might be strong as well but I can almost guarantee he will be targeted during the bloodbath if he doesn’t side with One and Two. The same will go for you two.”

“They may be the strongest but they’re not the smartest. We should keep our options open to others that we think are training well, that way we can adapt our plan of forming alliances when we find out what the arena conditions are.”

“I agree with Lia. One and Two pride themselves with strength and skill, I guess we will see during training if they have the brains too. Allying with Ten and maybe Seven could work in our favour, they start working from fifteen like we do, and they would know how to handle weapons we don’t.”

“Interesting idea, a good one at that. Alright, we’ll make adjustments depending on how training goes. Now, how do you want to Capitol to see you?”

“What do we look like at face value? Ignoring what you know about us, what do you think the Capitol would see in us?”

Finnick ponders for a moment, toying with his lip between his thumb and index finger. He flicks between Rhys and I and sighs. He settles on Rhys. “You look like you’re popular but cold, aloof and a little self-serving. Almost the exact opposite of what you are, I know, but this is me looking at you through the eyes of a Capitol citizen. They will look at your height and build and immediately assume you have girls chasing after you. You can guarantee Caesar will ask that when it comes to interviews.”

“What works better for sponsors? Being cold and aloof or being kind and brotherly?” I ask.

“Neither really work, but we can play with the brotherly aspect and show them you two are long-term friends and have known each other since you were little. Anyone who saw your reaping will know you two are close somehow. They have a soft spot for that, not as much as they do for lovers but that’s not going to work between you two so we will work with what we’ve got.”

“So, I’m playing the ‘little sister’ role?”

“Well, you do look a little lost and helpless which is a great front for being smart. The less people suspect you as a threat, the easier it is for you to hide in the shadows to surprise them. Plus, with the Careers seeing how little you know about weapons in the training room, they may dismiss you altogether and leave you for later in their list. You are slight, quiet and you don’t like being in the spotlight. The Capitol may see you as someone who should be protected and that could ring in more sponsors, but you would have to break out of that and show them during the games that you’re not helpless.”

“So, these roles are both for sponsors and for the other tributes?” Rhys asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Not exactly. Many tributes fake personas to hide what they’re good at and they’ll drop the act during the games. While the role works for sponsors and the beginning of the games, we’re mainly looking for something to entice sponsors with. Dropping the role during the games can be beneficial with sponsors, especially if you come out at strong and skilled, but you don’t want to do it too early otherwise you may lose appeal and therefore lose your sponsors.”

“So, we keep up the sibling act during the interviews and in the games we stick together and focus on surviving, showing what we’ve learnt in training. Hopefully, we will last long enough to gain more sponsors to help us and give us what we need.”

“You two will have no problems lining up sponsors.” A voice behind me announces, gaining my attention instantly. Phiona comes closer, leaning over the back of the sofa as a manicured finger gestures to Rhys and me. “You’re both beautiful, healthy and have a lot of potential to charm people whether you know it or not. The key is knowing what to say and how to say it. Uncertainty and inability to carry a conversation will lose you more sponsors than you may think. The Capitol doesn’t like boring people, they like learning things about people and experiencing a new way of life. They believe themselves to be exotic by soaking up the ways of the districts and District Four happens to be one of the most appealing lifestyles for them.”

“What do we need to say? Do we talk about Four or do we talk about yourselves?”

“A little bit of both while also keeping them wanting more.” Phiona spies a bar-cart pushed against the wall of the carriage and leaps over to pour herself a glass of dark amber liquid – bourbon presumably. “You are a beacon for young women in the Capitol so we can show them how you would be the perfect man; strong, thoughtful, hardworking. You just need to learn how to talk about yourself without coming across as boastful. Infer the information you want them to know.”

Her gaze moves down to me, analysing me in a few seconds as she takes a sip from the tumbler. “You can wrap everyone around your finger; you can pull in those wanting to protect you like you’re a younger sibling or a daughter with your guise, with your beauty you can charm young gentlemen into sponsoring you. You just need to be flattering and make people sympathise for you.”

I bite my lip and shift my focus to my fingers, rubbing my knuckles and fingernails. “I think you may have too much faith in me.”

“Lia, you are one of the only people I know that makes friends without trying. People feel comfortable around you, your presence is calming and welcoming – we just need to verbalise that to draw people in.” Finnick notes. “You didn’t see the crowd at the Reaping when your name was called. Everyone looked distraught, there were adults crying over you who have no relation to you or your family.”

“It’s true.” Phiona nods. “The Capitol is sensitive, and they will throw their money at anyone and anything they feel sorry for. If you find the right words, you can have the whole Capitol backing you.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. Lunch is about to be served in the dining carriage, I suggest you get yourselves ready and head over. We’ll be there shortly.” Phiona smiles, her pearl white teeth gleaming. Rhys pushing himself out of the chair and extends a hand to help me up, pushing me to go first towards the next carriage, passing our rooms on the way.  
Finnick and Phiona arrive five minutes later as lunch is being set up. A tray of roast meat steams up in the centre of the table, surrounded by potatoes, honeyed carrots, bowls of minted peas and beans, and salads dressed in vinaigrette. A basket of bread rolls sits at the far end of the table containing small white rolls and familiar seaweed-green crescent rolls. Bottles of water, wine and juice stand down my end of the table ready to be poured. Rhys immediately picks up two crescent rolls, handing one over to me before loading up his plate. I sit back, slowly pulling off pieces of bread to put in my mouth, savouring the taste of home as Phiona starts filling her plate. Finnick glances across at me, cocking his eyebrow.

“You go first,” I say before biting into another piece of bread. He smiles, shaking his head.

“Is that all you’ll be having?”

“No, I’m just easing my way into it so I don’t get sick.” I look over to Rhys as he drizzles gravy over his serving of roast meat. The rich brown liquid spread over the meat, dripping over the edges onto his plate.

“So long as you don’t over-indulge yourself, you’ll be fine. Same goes for when we’re in the Capitol.” Finnick stabs a potato with his fork, popping it straight into his mouth before loading more onto his plate. “You need to eat to keep up your energy, especially when you’re training.”

“He’s right,” Rhys adds. “Just skip the gravy and the salad. The carrots are good, here.” Rhys picks up my plate and piles carrots, potatoes, a few slices of meat and several big spoons of peas and beans onto it, topping it off with another crescent roll. “Eat up.”

He sets the plate back down and I thank him, biting my lip in thought. “We should keep an eye on the amount of food we eat in the Capitol so we don’t feed ourselves too much before the games. If we eat too much, our bodies will get used to it and then we’ll feel hungrier sooner.”

“Great plan, but we’re not in the Capitol yet so I want to see that whole plate cleaned up before you leave the table.”

Phiona laughs, pouring herself a glass of water while watching the two of us. Finnick does the same, smirking as he continues chewing. Lunch quietens down as we get into it, eating and drinking our fill until the table is cleared, a few bowls of light sweets placed before us for dessert. Grapes, strawberries, mini chocolates and a bowl of sugar cubes which Finnick shifts in front of himself, handling them gingerly as he stacks them up in a pyramid.

“It’s best to not eat dinner on the train, you’ll have dinner provided for you when you arrive in the tribute centre where you will be staying tonight. There are clean clothes in your rooms to change into and you can shower and freshen up before we arrive.” Phiona explains and excuses us from the table. I slide out of my seat, following Rhys back towards the carriage with our rooms and we peek into the first room. A turquoise shirt and beige pants are laid out on the bed, a simple pair of smart brown shoes on the floor next to them. I poke Rhys gently.

“This is yours.”

“What, you don’t think they’d give you a shirt and pants to wear?”

“Not two sizes bigger than my size.” I step across the hall to the other room, the beige-gold dress and brown strappy sandals hard to miss. “And I doubt you want to wear a dress.”

“Not particularly.”

I smile before closing my door and picking up the dress. It feels expensive, very smooth and at closer inspection the neckline causes my eyes to widen. Maybe it’s not that deep? Heading into my private bathroom, I strip and shower for twenty minutes or so, spending at least five minutes just standing under the hot water that doesn’t lose its pressure. Stepping out onto a panel I hesitate to press the buttons beside me but after reading them over several times I push the right button and my hair dries instantly, falling down my back in soft waves. I get dressed, wincing at my reflection in the mirror. The neckline, unfortunately, is that deep. The deep ‘V’ shows off more of my chest than I want it to, so I throw my cardigan on overtop button it up to cover my chest. I gather my hair into a ponytail and tie it off with an elastic, keeping it off my shoulders.  
We reconvene in the dining carriage as the sunlight outside fades, lighting the sky in orangey-pink streaks. Phiona picks at the grapes, scanning them for the best-looking ones, as she addresses us. “When we pull into the station, there will be people and cameras surrounding us. Your focus will be on following the Peacekeeper in front of you and not stopping. Smile, wave if you want to, but don’t stop for any of the citizens. There will be plenty of time for questions later. Understood?”

“Understood.” I nod, picking up a strawberry from the bowl and biting into it. The flesh is sweet, the juice slightly tart, and I find myself eating more and more as the time passes. As the last rays of sunlight dim, we round a bend in the tracks and the lights of the Capitol glow bright white. Skyscrapers and towers cast their lights on to the surrounding lake, illuminating the black water shades of yellow, green and silver. We enter a tunnel, hiding the sight away and I feel the train decelerate. The grey walls disappear, replaced with crowds and their ear-deafening commotion as they cheer and scream for us. Rhys stands, mouth hanging open slightly as he takes in the excitement and elation in their voices.

“Why do so many of them come to the station to watch tributes arrive?”

“Because this is their first glimpse at their potential investments,” Finnick replies, straightening up his crisp white shirt and rolling his head around, loosening up his neck and shoulders. “They pride themselves with having chosen who they will sponsor at the earliest chance, some even claim they chose who to sponsor during the reapings. It’s a sick satisfaction they crave, feeling like they’ve made all the difference in the world supporting a tribute who wins.” Finnick moves to stand by me, tucking his hands into his dress pants pockets. “You should stand between Rhys and me; let Rhys lead and take the bulk of the attention.”

“Fine by me,” I mutter, eyes locked on the figures adorned in garish fashions and overwhelming colours. Finnick’s hand grabs my bicep, tugging me gently towards the doors where Rhys stands with the Peacekeeper. Rhys slips his hand in mine, squeezing briefly before the train comes to a stop. The doors slide open and let in the noise with no restraints. They call out for Rhys and Finnick at first, many of the higher-pitched voices in the crowd grow hysterical as we step out and the two enter their vision. I shuffle along, looking up occasionally to give a small smile to those who call out my name. The noise is truly horrendous, it takes all my self-restraint not to clamp my hands over my ears to block it out as we weave through the throngs of people towards the entrance to the tribute centre. Once the doors close behind Phiona and near silence fills the air I release the breath I’ve been holding on to and glance around at the room. There are dozens of beds and tables set up with small instruments, brushes and containers. The curtains separating the tables are pulled open but come tomorrow when we are all back down here, they will be drawn shut as our teams work to tidy us up and make us ready for interviews and introductions.

“The training room is on this floor too, on the other side of the building, but as you can see this is the prep centre.” Phiona points out, taking the lead and making quick work of the distance to the elevator. “There’s nothing much to this area of the building, just make sure you’re down here in the morning so your teams can get you ready for the welcoming parade.” She presses the button and the doors open wide to let us in. She presses the number four and the doors close.

“Can you go to floors that aren’t your district’s assigned floor?”

“As tributes, you can’t travel to other floors but should another tribute be in the elevator with you their floor will be a stop. As mentors and escorts, we can go to other floors as we like - that’s how we plan alliances with other mentors.”

The doors open into a foyer lit by warm lamplight and dimmed overhead chandeliers - I didn’t even know you could dim chandeliers. Scanning the walls, my breath catches at the floor to ceiling view of the Capitol’s town square. Stepping up to the glass, I take in the sights; I can’t see their faces clearly, but the people wear every colour imaginable, darting around under the streetlights with their frills and feathers. Street performers dot the corners of every block - Fire breathers, dancers weaving through hoops, contortionists and jugglers – and are hard to miss, garnering attention from the massive crowds and dazzling with their harmless tricks and routines. Someone stands beside me, looking down over the festivities.

“Are we not entertaining enough for them?”

They let out a dry peal of laughter. “They need something to fill the time while they wait for the real show,” Finnick remarks. “These streets will be filled with people drinking, laughing and aweing for the next month. Then they wait for the victory tour, drink, eat and party once more, and then they wait for the next games. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

“How dreadful it is, having to wait so long for a fix of something they’ll never understand.”


	3. Prepping for the Parade

Sleep comes in the early hours of the morning after I’ve run my eyes dry and found a cotton blanket to put between the satin sheets and myself. The luxury of a soft bed and clean, smooth sheets is too much for my brain and body to stand. The foreign feeling is difficult to shake and it’s only when my eyes are red, sore and heavy that I can finally disregard my discomfort and fall asleep. Phiona is the one to wake me up in the morning, knocking lightly on the door with a glass of water in hand.

“This is for you.” I take it with a thank you, gulping it back gladly. Crying most of the night has left me with a headache. “We have time for breakfast before you need to head down to the prep centre. The boys are getting up and out now, so I’ll give you a minute to freshen up.”

I nod, handing back the glass and throwing back the duvet to escape the slipperiness of the bed. Delving into the drawers, I grab a grey long sleeve top and a pair of loose khaki pants. It takes a few minutes to get ready and collect myself, frowning at the redness around my eyes in the bathroom mirror, but I arrive in the dining room within five minutes. The boys are eating full plates of bacon and eggs with a side of buttered toast. I glance over at Phiona leaning back in her chair with a cup of coffee in hand.

“I know, they’re savages.”

I can’t fight the smile pulling at my lips as I take the last seat and pick a couple of slices of fruit to put on my plate. Rhys, having caught on to my lack of appetite, grabs the breadbasket in front of him and holds it out to me. “Take two.”

“I’m good.”

Phiona frowns. “You won’t get to have another big meal until this evening when we get back here. Eat even if you’re not hungry.” Phiona pushes the bowls of fruit towards me, picking up a bottle of water and pouring another glass for me. “Eat. You need to start getting your energy up so that when you start training you can work hard.”

“Thank you, really, but I’m alright.” I take the glass and hold it between my two hands. “I just need some time to get used to the excess and extravagance of things.”

“I’ll make a plate up for her,” Finnick speaks up, looking at Phiona. “She can have it when she gets to Wren. They’re needed down there in ten minutes.”

“Alright,” Phiona sighs. “But you’ll eat what you’ve got now, okay. Can’t have you becoming skin and bones before you’ve even entered the arena.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I salute, smiling behind the glass as a chug it back and work through the fruit. The nerves jumping around in my stomach ease but the tension in my shoulder remains. Today we will see the other tributes for the first time and the welcome parade is our first official appearance in the Capitol. Thousands of people will be watching us - judging us - and the bets will start piling up the moment we ride out in the chariot. I don’t want so many eyes to be on me. I don’t want to feel like a pet for someone’s amusement.

The prep centre is buzzing when we arrive. Many of the districts arrived yesterday evening or late afternoon, some arrived early this morning, so there are dozens of people walking around, standing in groups and going over papers in their hands. Phiona takes my hand, leading me over to a group of three standing beside an empty table. “Dahlia, Felix and Juniper, this is our lovely Lia. Lia, these are your prep team members. They will be cleaning you up and putting your makeup on for the welcoming ceremony and the interview two weeks from now.”

“Hello.” I smile briefly, voice barely audible with all the action and conversation going on in the room.

“Awww, how sweet are you! C’mon, let’s get you into this so we can get to work.” The burgundy-redhead woman grins, pulling me towards the table and handing me a hospital gown. “We’ll close the curtains and make sure no one bothers you but be quick – we don’t have a lot of time.”

I do as she says, leaving my clothes folded underneath the table and poking my head out of the curtains when I am done. Felix jumps, chuckling once he gathers himself and the three enter the enclosed workspace, pulling the curtains shut behind them.

“Alright my dear, we’re going to start by giving you a good scrub. It’s not that you’re dirty, it’s to get all the dead, dry skin off you and to get your skin smooth and silky.”

“Do whatever you need to, I won’t be offended.”

Offended – no. Curious and a little concerned that they were scrubbing and moisturising my body over and over again – yes. Felix also scrubbed my nails, shaped them and painted them a shimmering gold, doing the same to my toes which felt very strange and caused me to involuntarily jerk my legs when it started tickling. I apologise many times which just caused the team to laugh. Dahlia and Juniper were in charge of my skin, scrubbing, shaving and polishing it to be smooth and spotless. After they finished with that, Juniper moved on to my face while Dahlia layered my skin in a gold-tinged gel that felt like honey upon first applying it to my legs. Juniper tweezed my eyebrows, among some other method of shaping them that I couldn’t comprehend or see at that point. My eyes were shedding tears out of pure reaction to the hairs being plucked from my face. She then washed my face twice using two different products, then swiped a watery product over it with a cloth that stung at my tender skin before putting a mask made of something that smelt like seaweed over my whole face. While that soaked in, Dahlia brushed through my hair and put some oils through it that smelt very rich and expensive. Then the mask was removed, the remnants rubbed into my skin and Juniper assisted me in sitting up. Felix left, slipping out of the workspace into the main room and I frowned.

“Where’s he going?”

“Well, my dear, the next part can be a bit awkward for some and Phiona feels it will be easier for you if it’s just us women here.” Dahlia holds a towel up, unfolding it and holding it up in front of me. “We need you to take the gown off so we can go over your back and chest, that way when Wren puts you in your dress all of you will look breath-taking. We can’t have any blemishes on you, not even where they won’t see.”

My cheeks burn red, in fact my whole neck and chest burns red, and I nod mutely. Juniper tells me to lie on my front, unbuttoning the back of the gown once I do so. Dahlia places the towel over my butt before the gown is pushed off my shoulders and my arms are guided out of the sleeves. “I know it can be a bit embarrassing, petal, but I promise that not a single word will leave this space here.”

They get to scrubbing my back, shoulders and the back of my upper legs that they couldn’t reach before. Dahlia and Juniper talk about the festivities they attended last night, how they saw some of the tributes arrive and what they’ve thought of those they saw this morning which breaks the uneasiness in the air. “None of them are as gorgeous as you are though, petal. Or as handsome as Rhys, my friends were gushing over him yesterday – they’re already trying to get in contact with Finnick so they can sponsor you two.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of them.”

“Who wouldn’t sponsor you two? The pair of you are like models, not to mention Finnick is your mentor – anyone would spend all the money they had just to talk to him and see him smile.” Juniper adds.

“I forget how big Finnick’s fanbase is. Back home, there aren’t many who throw themselves at his feet. They just gossip about him and stare when he walks by.”

“Yes, there are plenty here in the Capitol that are begging Snow to put them next in line during Finnick’s visits.”  
I pause. “What do you mean?”

“When he comes to visit, he never leaves without sleeping with a few people. Sometimes he sleeps with a different person every night, other times he’s at someone’s house for days on end. You have to either be very high up or very rich to get Finnick to rendezvous with you.”

So Finnick’s visits to the Capitol always involve sex.

“Don’t worry petal, he keeps to himself during these times. His focus is on the tributes and giving his tributes the best opportunities and advice that he can.” Dahlia rubs my shoulder, sending me a warm smile. “Now, we have one last thing to do and then you are ready to see Wren.”

Their one last thing to do takes a long time. My whole body is covered in another coat of the honey-like substance and rubbed into my skin until my pasty white complexion turns a light shade of gold. Not too dramatic, but enough to make it look like I’m sun-kissed and evenly tanned. Juniper helps me back into the sleeves and buttons up the back before she pops her head out to bring Felix back in. Dahlia helps me off the table and examines their work.

“You look positively radiant, my dear. Now let’s get you to Wren.”

Dahlia leads me out of our bubble and down the hall towards some proper rooms away from the tables and curtains. She raps twice on the door labelled with a matte grey 4 and gives me an encouraging smile. “You can go in. We’ll be back soon to do your makeup.”

“Thank you, Dahlia.” I muster up a smile and open the door, poking my head in to survey the room. There are two plush armchairs surrounding a small coffee table with a black cloth covering something, a mini podium in front of three large mirrors and a drawn open changing area with hooks and a bagged garment resting on a hanger.

“Come in, don’t be shy.”

A tall, olive-skinned woman beckons me in after emerging from a little room off to the side. Closing the door behind me, I keep my eyes on her and scan her long black curly hair, her emerald green eyes and the fullness of her hips and legs. She looks beautiful, she is objectively so, and as I shuffle closer, I can’t help but duck my head to hide my average looks.

“My name is Wren, I’m your stylist for the welcoming ceremony and the tribute interviews, but before we get too carried away you need to eat.” She uncovers a platter of food from under the black cloth. Crescent rolls, strawberries, melon and some little chocolates litter the platter along with some cheeses, crackers and slices of cured meats. “Finnick said that I can’t dress you until you finish at least three-quarters of this, but I’m starving so we’ll finish half each and nobody will be any wiser.”

Grinning, I take a seat opposite her and pick a crescent roll to nibble on while she skewers some cured meat and folded it onto a cracker. We eat quietly, sometimes Wren makes sounds of enjoyment when she tries something new but otherwise, it’s peaceful and satisfying. We finish it all off, and a jug of water, before Wren wipes her hands and mouth with a napkin and gestures for me to stand on the podium. “Okay, let’s see what we’re got to work with.”

As she sizes me up, lifting my arms and moving my hair around to plan different hairstyles, I bite my lip and watch through the mirrors. Her expression never gives anything away; her mouth stays still, not quite scowling but resting in an almost frown. Her eyes are narrowed as she assesses my arms, legs and height, and her fingers are dragging over my skin and the hospital gown as she pulls the fabric tighter to see my silhouette. “I think I’ve got the measurements right. Take the gown off and close your eyes.”  
As it’s the second time today I’ve been told to strip in from of someone, I don’t blush as much but it’s still an unfamiliar thing to do so. I hear a zipper being pulled down, the rustling of fabrics crinkling and brushing against one another, and the light footfalls as Wren come closer.

“Arms up, keep your eyes closed.”

I do so, feeling the smooth material dance over my skin as she pulls it over my head and lets it fall down my body. My shoulders feel bare, but there’s a light touch across the tops of my biceps as she tightens the back of the dress, I feel the bodice cling to my chest. Wren instructs me to lift my feet up one at a time, slipping them into heels which give me a little extra height and a whole lot of wobbles. Then a cold chain is clipped around my neck, followed by bracelets, rings and earrings. She then assists me off the podium very slowly and walks me to the chair, helping me sit down before opening the door for someone.

“Oh petal, you look stunning!”

“Lovely Lia, you must be a Sea Queen or a mermaid!”

“Beautiful choice of fabric, Wren. She looks exquisite.”

“Yes, now let’s get her finished up. You know the colour scheme so go bold within those ranges.” Wren comes back to my side, resting a hand on mine. “I’m going next door to see Zakari, but the others will be here doing their bits so don’t worry.”

Cases and lids click open in front of me, the constant tap of something being placed on the table filling the air as Juniper holds my chin with two fingers, her touch notably lighter and more purposeful than Dahlia’s. Dahlia swipes a cream-like substance over my eyelids, talking to Felix about which base and crease colours to use. The makeup process is a lot with liquid products going on followed by cream products, then a brush with a powder product, and back in with something else. I get warned when I need to not twitch before something is drawn onto my eyes, the product very close to entering my tear ducts. Then something else goes on my eyes, followed by my eyelashes getting brushes with something.

Wren returns and directs me back up on the podium, this time I can hear Phiona has entered with her and she gasps audibly once I stand still.

“Oh Lia, you’re going to make me tear up.”

“I’m sorry, Phiona. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay Lia,” Wren speaks. “Open your eyes.”

It’s not possible. This person cannot be me. She is tall, skin glistening with faint flecks of gold shimmer and her face is carved out with sharp cheekbones and full dusty pink lips. Her eyes are rimmed in bronze and black, the smoky eyeshadow elongating the shape of her eyes and making her look like she’s sultry, smouldering naturally as she looks at me. Her hair is sleek and a darker brown than my normally limp looking hair is, rolled into waves that cascade over her shoulders and down her back. The dress she wears is another thing altogether. Teal green and gold threads and weave together to give the allusion of sand and dark seaweed moving as one. Material droops over her upper arms as the bodice hugs her chest and waist tightly, showing off her curves. The skirt billows out down to her knees and tapers down behind her until it finishes at her ankles, the material falling in ripples and waves that shift as she repositions herself. She moves as I move, turning her lower half around to see the back of the dress. The corset back is just visible from this far away, the ribbon the same material as the rest of the dress so it blends in perfectly. She looks like an enchantress, a siren from the children’s stories I used to hear when I was younger.

“Oh wow, Wren it’s beautiful.” I breathe out, awestruck still at my reflection. “Is there any chance that there can be less of my chest out on display?”

The team laughs, Wren smirking as she goes over to the bag the dress came in and pulls out some pins. I descend from the podium, biting my lip as she gathers some of the material at the neckline and secures it with some hidden pins on the inside. I spin around to check the new neckline, happy that it’s not as showy as before. “Thank you, the dress is incredible, I’m just not very confident with the idea of my chest being televised across the nation.”

“Thank you, Lia, and it’s not a problem. You are still young. I understand wanting to keep as much of your innocence as you can.”

Phiona glanced across at a clock on the wall. “We need to get moving, the others should be done by now. Finnick said they’ll meet us at the chariot.”

“Excellent.” Wren extends an arm to me, giving me something to hold onto as I wobble back and forth in these heels. She gives me tips as we walk out of the room, advice that I put into practice as soon as possible while Phiona leads the way through a long corridor towards an open undercover outdoor space filled with horses, chariots, tributes, stylists and their mentoring teams. “Be careful when you’re wearing shoes like these with the stiletto heel, you don’t want to be walking heel-toe and break it right off. Next time I’ll put you in wedges.”

“Wedges?”

“They have the same footprint as a normal flat shoe, but the heel part is elevated like these heels. They’re a lot more comfortable and easier to walk and to keep your balance in.”

“Here we are.” Phiona sighs. “Well don’t you look dashing, Rhys.”

He does; sticking with a similar colour palette to me, his shirt is a dark teal with flecks of a lighter metallic teal and bronze through it and his stylist has left it open, showing off his muscular chest and stomach earned through the years of working with his dad. He’s wearing a pair of bronze-toned shorts but no shoes.

“Thanks, Phiona, but I don’t think I’m going to be what people see first on our chariot.”

It’s then that I notice all three men are staring at me, as are some other tributes and their teams around us. My cheeks burn red once more, eyes glued to the concrete floor as my fingers start to twitch and circle each other. “What do you want us to do, Finnick? Are we waving at the crowd? Doing nothing?”

It takes Finnick a few moments to react. “Wave, smile, hold hands – just be natural about it.”

“Alright.” Rhys steps up to the chariot, jumping up with ease and holds a hand down for me. Wren lets go of my arm, encouraging me forwards without help. It’s a dodgy start, but after a few steps I can keep my ankles from breaking and reach out for Rhys’s hand. He pulls me up effortlessly, steadying me with a hand on each of my arms once both feet are securely on the chariot.

“Oh, and Lia.” Finnick leans up against the side of the chariot, stroking a horses’ back as he smiles at me. “You might want to hold onto the rail. We wouldn’t want you falling off and getting run over, would we?”

The gates open and shoot out the chariots for Districts One and Two, our horses cantering after them. Rhys’ hold is still on me, thank God, because the tug of the chariot throws my bodyweight backwards. I grip the rail with the left hand for dear life, glaring back at Finnick as his laughs fill the air, soon drowned out by the chanting and screaming of the Capitol. Rhys places his hand near mine on the rail, our pinkies brushing against each other’s while he waves at the crowds and smile, increasing the screaming in the air. I anxiously lift my right hand up to wave at the audience on the right side of the procession, smiling after a while once the noise becomes less of a commotion. I wave towards where I hear my name being called, I smile and even catch a few roses thrown onto our chariot. Near the end of the procession, a band of voices cry out my name and I do what feels right – I wink at them. That sets them off and I grin as we ride past them and into the circle looking up at President Snow. After a minute or so all the chariots arrive and, Snow stepping forward to speak into the microphone before him. The crowd continues to cheer and clap, never silencing as Snow’s voice booms through the circle for all to here.

“Welcome, welcome. Tributes, we welcome you and we wish you Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

The crowd erupts in further applause and the chariots lurch forwards once more. Rhys turns his head to me, frowning slightly. “Not much of a public speaker, I guess.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he just doesn’t have anything monumental to say.”

The chariots enter through another pair of gates, slowing to an abrupt stop once the horses feel they have gone far enough inside. Rhys disembarks first, hands grabbing for my hips to lift me down smoothly. I stumble, gathering myself before I have the chance to fall in front of all the other tributes.

“Well, don’t you two look like a royalty.”

I whip my head around to see Davinia and Midas from One dressed head to toe in jewels and silk. Davinia’s pin-straight black hair contrasting greatly against her pale skin, the white diamonds and silver silk adding to that. Midas is decked out in a suit of gold, his blond hair slicked back with gel, but strands fall against his forehead, giving him a messy look. I draw a ‘1’ into Rhys’ back.

“Hardly, you two look like you’ve already got that covered.”

Davinia scoffs, her grin coming across as more of a sneer. Midas continues to stare at me, or more accurately my chest, and I move slightly behind Rhys as a result.

“What’s wrong, Cartwright?” A familiar voice pipes up. “Haven’t seen a girl before?”

Finnick strolls over, head cocked to the side with a signature smirk on his lips. Midas finally looks away, giving Finnick a scowl. “I’ve seen plenty, doesn’t mean I can’t see what other districts have.”

“It’s a shame District One is so flat, with all that money you wonder why people don’t get implants.” Finnick quips, earning an indignant gasp from Davinia who latches onto Midas’ hand and pulls him away. Other tributes catch this, glancing back at us with curious expressions. “Ignore him and anyone else who acts like that. They’re just immature and have no manners.”

Finnick turns towards the elevators and we follow diligently. All I want to do is get to our floor and get out of this dress and into some comfortable, normal clothes. A few of the tributes and their mentors follow us but they stay back when we enter the elevator. As I turn around, I catch a pair of blue eyes looking at me in awe and a head of ginger hair before the doors close.

“The little ginger girl, what’s her name?”

Finnick furrows his brows. “Annie Cresta, why?”

“What district is she from?”

“Eight.”

Rhys and Finnick stare at me, waiting for me to continue asking questions, but the door opens and I snap out of it, stepping out of the elevator and clutching the wall long enough to yank my shoes off. Wren was right, they do get uncomfortable quickly.

I change quickly and return to the dining room for food. Though I did have half of the platter with Wren, my stomach’s now crying out for more. My plate is full and I’m digging in by the time the others come out, both sharing a knowing grin when they see me.

“Need we remind you of your own plan to not overindulge yourself whilst you’re here in the Capitol?”

“Remind me after I’ve finished, I’m starving.”

When Phiona arrives, she gasps. “Who are you and what have you done with our Lia?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“All jokes aside, tomorrow you will start training. I want you to look at everything that’s available; all the stations, especially the non-weapon-based ones. They can give you an idea as to what the arena will include so make sure you go to each of those stations for at least a few hours each day. Firing starting, net making, edible plants, whatever there is study it and don’t move onto the weapon-based stations until you’re mastered those sections. The Careers will float around the weapons they favour so you can learn from a distance how they fight and what they use and in the second week we can start you guys on the weapons they don’t favour.”

“Why the ones they don’t favour first?” Rhys asks through a mouthful of vegetables. I kick him under the table.

“Because they’re going to grab those weapons when they get to the cornucopia or will kill whoever tries to grab it first.” I reply, cutting a piece of broccoli in half before giving Rhys a look of disappointment. “You might need to stay in the “How to eat food without looking like a savage” station for a few days. You’re chewing is so loud, someone could probably hear it a mile away.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that will be a station. You’re just going to have to improvise.” Finnick puts the last bit of chicken in his mouth, swallowing before he continues.

“Lia’s right though, you don’t want to be face-to-face with one of the careers fighting for a weapon. That won’t end well for you. But watching them train can give you a good idea of how they fight; targets and dummies don’t move, you will. They can show off all they like hitting stationary targets – it won’t matter unless they can translate that into mobile targets.”

“Your first week will also be a great opportunity to see how others fight and work too. Remember you want to line up allies as early as possible in case they get approached by other people. I’ve heard a lot of talk amongst the escorts and mentors about Lachlan, the boy from Ten. Everyone wants him on their side.”

“My prep team was talking about there being sponsors backing us already.” I turn to Finnick. “Has anyone come to you about it yet?”

“I had some offers last night and this afternoon, but a lot of people are still undecided. The individual scores at the end of these two weeks and the interviews will be what brings in a big wave of sponsors.”

“In the elevator, you asked about that girl Annie,” Rhys notes. “Do you want her as an ally?”

“What? The little girl from Eight?” Phiona asks.

“I was just curious. I saw her looking at me when we got in the elevator.”

“At least half the tributes were looking at you when we got in the elevator, Lia. What makes her different?” Rhys enquires. I shake my head, stabbing some peas with my fork.

“She didn’t look like she was going to try to kill me or force herself upon me.”

The air stills. “Well,” Phiona clears her throat. “That’s a good start. I’ll find out more about the boy, see if he’s got any useful qualities.” She gets up to leave, freeing at the edge of the room. “If anyone gives you that feeling during training, go straight to Rhys and join in with what he’s doing. If you can’t do that, then find the nearest instructor and join in at their station. Okay?”

I nod, letting her go. It’s no secret that tributes have been intimate in the arena and that many were forced into it. I can’t see why you would want to expose yourself like that in front of the whole of Panem – kissing is fine, normal given the imminent death many face and the “couple” ploy tributes sometimes play, but groping each other and going even further than that is insane. There aren’t any immediate repercussions for those who force themselves on other tributes, and sometimes the tribute at fault can survive to the final battle. It’s foul. Thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

“If Midas or anyone else makes you feel uncomfortable and unsafe in the training centre, you tell me as soon as you can,” Finnick demands, his eyes locked onto mine. “I’ll tell Lysander, the instructors, anyone I can so that the kid gets what’s coming to him.”

“It’s probably just a scare tactic. Part of assessing how much of a threat I will be.”

“It could be, but we shouldn’t just let it happen.”

We finish up after that, heading to our rooms and settling in for the night. The celebrations continue outside, running well into the night and early morning. I sleep easier than yesterday, still needing the cotton blanket to lie on but this time the crying isn’t necessary.


	4. Training - Part One

The morning starts the new routine of waking up, having a decent breakfast, and getting ready for training. We are required to be down there before the hour which is not a problem. The problem is waiting for everyone to arrive and avoiding the lingering eyes of others. Rhys notices this, glaring daggers into the eyes of many who aren’t averting their gaze. Several pale, looking elsewhere immediately. Others, like Midas and Holland from District Two, snigger and cross their arms in front of them.

On the hour, our head instructor steps forward and introduces himself to us. He goes through the stations, tell us about the compulsory ones and the individual training ones, and outlines the rules regarding the training centre and interactions with other tributes. The exercise course is the first thing we have to pass; rings twelve feet up in the air, a climbing net taking us up to the ceiling and back down the other side, and finally blocks scattered along one section of the training floor that we have to jump onto from other blocks without touching the ground. The rings hurt like hell, but they were manageable, same with the net – it just took a little bit of time to find the right way to position my feet so I didn’t get them twisted and stuck. The blocks were the biggest challenge. To leap across to one, I have to extend my body and legs as far as I can and use all the momentum I can muster, while also holding steady once I land on the block as to not fly right off it. Most of the tributes found one of the three easy and one of the three difficult, depending on their size and stamina. After that, we are allowed to move around freely and go to the different stations.

I start off in the plants station, not knowing much about them and needing to my knowledge up to par. What would be the point in learning how to use a weapon when I don’t know what plants could kill me and which could save my life? I’m joined by Madeline from District Eleven after twenty minutes and while she’s not bad at deciphering which plants are which she tends to make noises of praise or frustration when she does something, a habit she likely won’t unlearn by the time she gets in the arena. I leave her at the station once I’ve classified the whole selection of plants without making any faults. Scanning the stations, I see the head of red hair at the knot tying station and make my way over.

Annie is surprisingly good at tying knots. Her spindly fingers are precise and nimble, untying tight knots and retying them in seconds.

“When did you learn how to do that?”

Bright blue eyes break their focus on the rope, widening when they find mine. A wide grin spreads across her face.

“My sisters and my dad taught me. Do you want to learn?”

“Yes please, if you’re prepared to teach my novice hands for the next hour or so.”

Annie picks up a piece of rope from the table and hands it over to me. The instructor at the station is leaning back, watching Annie explain beginner knots, then moving onto more advanced and expert knots and what their purposes are for. He never butts in or corrects her, and if the proud look in his eye is anything to go by Annie knows what she’s talking about.

She’s very patient as she goes over directions and corrects my mistakes regularly. Tying knots is something I should be adept at considering my district’s industry, but dad works as a manager in the market, and mum works in a factory where they store the fish before it gets shipped out. Knots and the skills to hunt and fish weren’t something my parents had as part of their daily routines, and they hardly had the time to be away from their jobs to teach them to me growing up. Sometimes I wonder why my dad didn’t enrol me into the training academy. I asked him once, back when Finnick had been reaped and we were watching him in the arena. He said that it didn’t matter, what “it” was I don’t know.

“You learn really fast.” Annie smiles, scanning the various knots in front of me. Surgeons knots, double uni knots, knotless knots and Palomar knots lie across one end of the table while bowline knots, clove-hitch knots, taut line knots and sheepshank knots lie at the other end. “Did you know how to do them already?”

“No, you’re just a great teacher.” I give Annie a small smile. “I don’t actually know a lot that will help me in the arena.”

“You’ll know something, it just won’t seem important until you need it.”

“What else can you do?” I ask, glancing around at the other non-weapon-based stations. “Can you light fires from scratch?”

Annie shakes her head and my smile widens. I take her hand, thanking the instructor as we get up and a lead her towards the station “Let’s learn how to light fires.”

The rest of the day I work with Annie, content with learning the seemingly insignificant things whilst the weapons stations are packed full of tributes getting used to the sometimes heavy and difficult items. In the middle of learning the best techniques for protecting our small fires, a fight breaks out over in the knives station – a tribute had allegedly missed the target and almost hit Davinia which in turn caused Midas and Holland to get riled up, threatening the boy from Nine with the phrase “you’re going to die first”.

As Rhys and I head to the elevator at the end of the session, quietly conversing about other tributes, Lachlan, the boy from Ten, steps into the elevator as the door closes and for a moment the air is filled with silence.

“You handle a knife well, Rhys. I pegged you as more of a trident or spear person.”

“Thanks, just seeing what feels good at the moment. You’re pretty good with a sword.”

“Swords are easy, but they’re also Midas’ favourite so I’m either going to have to work with something else or run faster.” Lachlan looks over at me, almost forgetting I was in the elevator too. “What weapon are you good with?”

“I haven’t practised with any yet.”

He nods, the doors sliding open for Rhys and me to disembark. “With your height and build, you might be better off with something light, like a bow and arrow or knives. You won’t stand a chance up against any of the boys in hand to hand unless you get some muscle on you.”  
We step out and I turn back to face him, surprise evident in my expression. “Thank you for the tip.”

The doors close, numbers jumping up quickly as his words echo in my head. You won’t stand a chance up against any of the boys in hand-to-hand unless you get some muscle on you.

“That sounded like pretty good advice, about the weapons you should go for.” Rhys admits.

“Yeah. What he said about hand to hand combat was true too.” I give Rhys a brief smile. “I’m going to wash up. If Phiona or Finnick turn up before dinner tell them I want to have a talk with all of us about alliances.”

“Did someone ask you to team up with them?”

“No, but I know who I trust and who I don’t trust.”

Finnick and Phiona only turn up right before dinner is being brought out, so I signal to Rhys to forget my message with a shake of my head and start digging in. Today’s main course is seafood; fish of all kinds that I recognise from home, as well as shellfish and giant crabs with white buttery flesh. This is much easier to stomach than the meat and gravy. Our usual array for sides and vegetables adorn the table too and I graciously accept two crescent rolls Rhys tosses my way. I don’t listen to much of what the others say, instead focusing on the discussion I want to lead after dinner. Alliances are an easy thing to sketch out, but organising extra training may be a bit difficult.

Rhys nudges me in the ribs and I jump. I glance over at him and he points to Phiona who has a lazy smile on her lips and a glass of champagne in hand. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said that I had district eights mentor come to me this afternoon and ask about you, it seems you spent a lot of time with little Annie in the training room today.”

“I did. She’s smart, patient and quiet. I work well with her and she understands what to do and works well under pressure. If the opportunity arises, I want her as an ally.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick asks, eyes flicking between Rhys and I. “She’s not going to be much help on the offensive.”

“I’ve got five tributes other than the careers that I don’t want to be anywhere near when we get in the arena. Madeline from Eleven is loud, she will be heard a mile away. That boy from Nine can’t hit a target to save his life. Three couldn’t get through any of the fitness circuits at the beginning without major help and their stamina is lacking. The girl from Six lacks awareness of her surroundings and goes in and out of these episodes, whether they’re memories or just her thoughts I don’t know. It took three tries to get her to snap out of it when she was working with Annie and I in the fire-starting station.”

“So that brings our tally up to nine on the ‘do-not ally with’ list, anyone you want to add Rhys?” Finnick leans back in his chair, irritation riding on his tone.

“He’s not on that list, but a potential ally could be Lachlan.”

“Giving a piece of logical advice doesn’t really count as a ticket onto the ally list, Rhys.” I counter, pushing away from the table to perch my foot on the chair, resting my chin on my knee.

“It’s not just that. I wasn’t lying when I told him his sword skills were good. He can wield them like they are a part of him, the blade moves exactly how he wants it to. If we team up with Annie for her brains and survival skills, we should team up with Lachlan for his weapon skills before the Careers either recruit him or take him out.”

“When did you even get to talk to him?” Finnick frowns.

“In the elevator. He gave Lia some advice with weapons and fighting too. He seemed genuine about it, so maybe he would be more willing to ally with us instead of the Careers.”

“And what did he tell you?” Finnick’s gaze locks onto me, his sea-green eyes piercing against the bronze hue of his hair and skin.

“He mentioned that since I have no muscle or height that I should go for knives or a bow, they would work better for me than the other weapons. He also said that I wouldn’t stand a chance in close-combat with any of the boys.”

“Well, he’s not wrong on both accounts.” Finnick sighs, scratching the back of his neck. Phiona nods slightly, looking over at me from behind the rim of her glass.

“I want to do fight training. Outside of the training centre. If everyone thinks what he thinks than I want the element of surprise. I know I need to get stronger so maybe I can do something here for a couple of hours before bed.” I look between Rhys and Finnick, judging by the looks in their eyes they aren’t opposed to it but there is still some hesitation.

“Let’s be honest; if I go up against Midas or Holland in my current state, I’ll be dead within thirty seconds. We have less than two weeks before we are in the arena – let’s use the time we have now to at least extend my survival time to a minute.”

Finnick scoffs, rolling his eyes as Phiona tuts and mutters under her breath.

“I’m down.” Rhys nods. “It’ll also be good for things like climbing and lifting things, right? They are just as important skills to learn and we can do it away from the others, giving us an edge.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Finnick starts. “But I already know where this is going. You’re going to ask me to help, to train you and give up my time of rousing sponsors to better your physical conditions.”

“We can train ourselves, just help us write out a plan or something to follow. Give us tasks to do and exercise to complete and then you can continue gathering sponsors.” I shrug. “They won’t really matter if we don’t make it through the bloodbath though.”

Finnick stares straight at me, cocking his head to the side. He’s silent for a long while, scrutinising the options and biting his lower lip. With a deep sigh, he nods, throwing back the rest of his champagne and sliding his chair backwards. “Fine, but I’m not going easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“We’ll meet in the main room in thirty minutes. I have a sponsor I need to talk to first.”

Finnick leaves the room soundlessly and as I watch him, his eyes turn darker, the light inside fading like his usual Capitol look. I guess being around other District Four people brings his mood up to a certain degree, but when it comes to business it dwindles down to his perceived notion of professionalism.

Phiona clears her throat, throwing Rhys a forced smile. “Why don’t you get changed into some other clothes, I’m sure you don’t want to get that all sweaty after your shower earlier.”

Rhys nods, sending me a sideways glance, before getting up and heading to his room. Phiona then turns to me. “I told you that I’d look into the boy from District Eight. I’m afraid it’s not a good idea.”

“What do you mean.”

“I mean when I went to meet with their escort, she told me about how vile the boy is. He is known in Eight to be a problem, not only that but many families were actually glad that he was reaped. There have been reports in the past of inappropriate behaviour and it will do you no good to ally with him, even with Rhys with you.”

“But what about Annie? And Lachlan?”

“If you want Annie as an ally, you can have her as an ally. I’ll talk to Caspian tomorrow about this Lachlan boy and see what we can make of it.”

“Thank you Phiona.” I give her a warm smile, some tension in my shoulders releasing at the confirmation of Annie’s favour.

“Lia, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“With training? I’m learning as I go but I think-”

“With Finnick.” She pauses, her mouth pulling into a firm line. “He’s helping as much as he can, but there’s only so much he can do. You and Rhys aren’t the only ones with not so pleasant things they have to do.”

“I know he’s helping and I’m grateful for it, but I don’t want all the hard work he’s doing now to go to waste in two weeks’ time. If he’s selling us as these strong, capable tributes then I want to show that to the sponsors when it comes down to it.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t push yourself too far, Lia. There’s only so much our bodies and minds can endure.” Phiona puts down her glass, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I’ll be going to bed now. See you in the morning.”

She leaves without another word, passing Rhys as he emerges from his room in a set of long baggy pants and a black t-shirt. He frowns at me, his head ducking towards Phiona’s back. I shake my head, not sure myself what her discussion meant.


	5. Training - Part Two

When Finnick returns he has us doing basic exercises to get us familiar with muscle groups and what it feels like to engage them. Squats, lunges, push-ups, sit-ups and more that make my arms quiver and ache by the time we are done.

“Okay, now with that warm-up done, let’s see how good your footwork is. Rhys.” Finnick points to the clear space in front of him. “Stand here in what you think is your best sparring position.”

Rhys does so, his foot placement a little off and his stance a little high but other than those minor points it looks good to me.

Finnick shakes his head. “That’s not good at all. You’re standing with your knees locked, it gives you no stability or engagement in your legs. Your hands are way too low – you need to have them no lower than shoulder height; in hand to hand combat you will need to protect your head more than your body. You’re a big guy, you can wear a few to your chest and abs, alright. You also should shift your hips around, locking them square will restrict the power you can put into punches and it makes you stiff. Angle your hips so that when you punch with the reverse you can throw your hip into it and deliver a punch with more power. Now punch.”

Rhys throws his hand out, a little late on the call but other than that Finnick doesn’t look too fussed. “Make sure your thumb is tucked in and lays on top of your closed fingers out of the way. Fists need to be tightly closed when you make contact but before and after that point, they can be loose. The less tension you have in the moving process the better, too much tension restricts your movements and slows you down. Now do two to the count. Lia, call them.”

I do so, counting and watching keenly as Finnick picks Rhys technique apart at every second count, correcting his posture and tapping various parts of his body as he instructs Rhys to engage the muscles, to get more rotation into the punches or to keep his guard high. I reset back to one five times before Finnick holds his hand up to stop me further. “Not bad once you get the hang of it, you just need to remember to ground yourself more. As soon as you stand high with your knees locked you are going to lose your balance and get pushed over. Stay low and keep your guard high. Lia, you’re up.”

Switching places with Rhys, I assume a low position with guards high and knees slightly bent. Finnick smiles as he assesses me. “Punch me.”

“Punch you? Why, Rhys didn’t punch you?”

“That’s because Rhys weighs fifty pounds more than you do and could put me on the floor more often than not once he’s got the hang of it, which he did. You, on the other hand, I think I can handle a few beatings from.”

Gritting my teeth, I roll my shoulders back and take a deep breath. On the silent count of three, I throw my fist out and it bounced off his stomach with little impact. Finnick chuckles, Rhys too before I shoot him a deadly glare and extend it to Finnick who shakes his head in amusement. “Several points to make; first off because you’re small you need to step into the punch – you can’t just punch with your feet rooted in place and expect to be able to cause any damage. Two, you’re overextending your arm and losing power, keep a little bend in your arm and it’ll not only transfer your power into your attacker but also you won’t sprain your elbow in the long run. Three, you’re hitting abs – I know mine are irresistible, but try to contain yourself, okay? You need to aim higher,” Finnick takes my fist, bringing it a fist height higher than where I landed my first hit. “The solar plexus is where you want to target. This spot will wind anybody if you hit them hard enough. Now go again.”

I bring back my hand, shaking it out before clenching it tightly. Finnick taps it before I even have a chance to move. “Loosen it when you’re preparing, you’ll slow yourself down and make it obvious you’re going to try to punch them if you head into a fight looking like that.” I loosen my hand slightly, keeping all my fingers tucked in, and make sure my other hand is up by my face before I go again. My feet shuffle forwards as I throw my fist, but they land at different times, the momentum cutting itself off halfway through.

“That didn’t feel right, did it?”

“No, how do I time it?”

“Move first, when your back foot is landing you should be landing your punch. Think of it as a one-two count. One, you bring your front foot forward. Two, you bring the back foot up and you throw your punch, both landing at the same time. Rhys, start the count.”

I get the hang of it eventually, albeit it takes a lot longer than I hoped it would. Rhys counts up to one hundred, his eyes following my fist as I throw it out, make contact, and then retract for the next count. On the last count, Finnick grins and holds up a hand towards Rhys. “You’re getting there, but you’re holding back on contact.”

“I don’t want to wind you.”

“Princess, you are the one who asked for this. You’re the one who needs to learn how to punch and defend themselves, so stop holding back and start putting more effort into it, okay? We’ll call it for today, it’s late and you still have training tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Finnick. You’re a really good teacher.” Rhys notes, giving him a pat on the back before heading towards his room.

“Thank you. I know you have a lot to do for us. I just want to make sure everything you’re doing now won’t go to waste.”

Finnick smiles, looking out the window for a moment. “You should have more faith in yourself, Lia. You’re a quick learner. If you put your mind to it, you can pick up a lot of things in the next two weeks that will be extremely beneficial for you in the arena. I have no doubts about you surviving the bloodbath.” Finnick raises a hand up to my face, her fingers brushing strands of hair behind my ear gently then dropping his hand onto my shoulder. With light pressure, he turns my body towards the door and gives my back a shove. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For the rest of the week, I remain in the non-weapon stations making sure I can do all the tasks faultlessly. They need to be second nature by the time I get in the arena and with the muscles I’m beginning to build with combat training I feel more confident with the fitness tests at the beginning of each day – climbing up and down the nets is a lot easier now that my arms can take more of my weight.

Annie joins me a lot of the time and we find a rhythm working together. Annie praises me with my knot tying and swiftness in starting a fire and I praise her with her recollection of edible plants and how to handle the deadly ones – when she first classified them there were some hiccups, but within a few days she was proficient and could label them on sight. Neither of us had gone near the weapons yet and her mentor seemed antsy about it, so on the fifth day, I urged her to go to the knives station and focus on that.

By the end of the first week, Rhys and I have selected potential allies. The good thing about spending so much time in the less crowded stations is that I had plenty of opportunities to evaluate the other tributes and find their strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately, the Careers never gave any sign of weakness as they practised with their chosen weapons and spent many days intimidating the other tributes with their adeptness. Lachlan had a few chances to train with a sword and I quickly learnt just how good he was, as did the rest of the tributes. I also saw exactly what he meant regarding the right weapon choice watching Madeline work with a short sword. As the blade was longer than a typical knife and heavier, Madeline struggled to find a good grip on the hilt and furthermore dropped it many times while blocking the instructor’s attack. Madeline and I are similar builds and heights, so learning how difficult it was for her to control the short sword was something I kept in mind going into the second week.

The after-dinner training with Finnick and Rhys is my favourite part of training. Being able to make contact with something, using my body weight and momentum to push them back a few steps, and seeing how winded they get when I land a decent punch on them is rewarding. I even manage to kick Rhys into the couch so hard he groans, sinking further into the cushions in defeat. My least favourite part is conditioning. I understand it, the need to get used to taking hits to the body so that it doesn’t deter you from continuing an attack, but the process is hard and my body aches in the morning.

Today is the first day of the second week of training – weapons training week. Keeping both Finnick’s and Lachlan’s points in mind, I plan to split my hours between the knives and spears stations. I already know that swords are a no go for me, so as we head into the training centre I look towards the unused spears and rearrange my schedule – spears until lunch, then knives until the day is over.

The instructor goes over the basics of holding the spear; where to find the balance, how to grip it depending on what you want to do – whether that is throwing it or using it in close combat, and how to block blade attacks with the spears. The motions are easy enough to remember and he gets me to practise throwing at the targets.

“Keep your arm up high, your trajectory comes from your form and alignment in your arm. When you go to throw it, shuffle forwards and rotate your hip to square up to the target. That will give you the best guide for throwing straight.”

I nod, gauging the distance to the first target. It’s roughly ten metres away, so with a deep breath I ready myself and poise for the throw. Flinging my arm forwards, rotating through my hips, I let go of the spear and it flies through the air, landing in the silhouette’s shoulder. Not bad, but not fatal.

“The harmless Sea Queen with a weapon, who would’ve thought?” A snide hiss sounds from behind me. Holland stalks forwards, scoffing at the target. “Did your plants and ropes get too boring?”

“What do you want?”

“Besides the obvious?” a hand lands on my forearm, fingers digging into my skin. “You’re in my territory, sweetheart. I suggest you step aside and let a real warrior handle those, hmm?”

Ripping my arm free, I turn my back on him and head out to the target to pull the spear out. Placing my hand on the target’s chest, I yank the spear out as a spear pierces the target’s throat, ten centimetres above where my fingers rest. I whip around as the training room falls silent. Holland smirks menacingly, eyes narrowed in on me. Behind him Davinia and Farrah snigger while Midas watches with his head tilted back, a smug smile pulling at his lips. My vision tinges red and I rip the spear out, my expression calm as I walk up to Holland and hand him his spear. I step back, giving him the space to lift his arm and hurl the spear at the target, hitting directly in the centre of the head. He struts forwards. “See, sweetheart, leave the spears to me-”

I throw my spear hard, making sure he hears it rush by his ear as it lands next to his in the target. The station instructor chuckles as do a few others across the room, and I can hear Rhys’ low murmur as well among the low buzz of reactions. Holland spins around, eyes wide and I smile back at him.

“You wouldn’t mind grabbing that for me, would you? Y’know, seeing as I should leave the spears to you.”

I can feel the anger radiating off the two girls and I turn my head, making sure to give them a smile when they glare at me. Holland stalks up to me and thrusts the upright spear at me, pushing me backwards. My smile spreads wider and I bite back the laugh bubbling up inside my chest when Holland shoves his spear back on to the rack and murmurs about me being first on his list. I remain at the spear station, working on getting the right arm position and making sure to hit the most fatal points on the targets before moving to the next one away. By lunch, I’ve managed to hit the twenty-metre target a couple of times in the chest, though I’m still working on hitting the head. Rhys approaches me with a smile on his face as we wait in line, initiating our quiet conversation for once about the tributes and what we’ve done so far in the day.

“Be careful with the Careers, yeah. Try not to show any more of them up – they already have a pretty big target over our heads.”

“I didn’t mean to do it, it just happened in the spur of the moment. No more cool weapon tricks, I promise.”

“I wish he was facing you when you did it. I would’ve given anything to see his face.” Rhys whispers, leaning close as the Careers move towards tables near where we’re standing. We move up the line, hiding our grins as Holland glances up at us and visibly sulks. After lunch we split up again, Rhys going to the swords and me heading to the knives. Annie pops by for half an hour, aiming at the first target but always missing the silhouette. Using what I’ve learnt from the combat training and spears instructor, I adjust to the weight of the knives and start throwing. My first few are shattered across the target, but as time passes, I get used to the differences in throwing preparation and I can land a fatal hit once every five or six throws.

By the end of the day I’m exhausted but content. Understanding more about the weapons I will be using has me feeling a lot more confident in myself and dare I say it excited to learn more and improve. If this is what the academy feels like, then I can get why people would enrol – the power you have learning these new things is addicting. Knowing how to use deadly objects well and knowing how to react to situations quickly makes me feel competent, strong and dependable.  
I must look happy at dinner because both Phiona and Finnick pick up on it before we’ve even started serving ourselves food.

“What did you do?” Phiona asks, her own lips quirking up and glance down at my plate, shaking my head with a grin on my face.

“She defamed Holland at the spear station in front of everyone. Serves him right too after what he did.”

“What did he do?” Finnick looks between the two of us, a small smile on his face.

“He threw a spear at me when I was out collecting mine.”

Phiona gasps, dropping a serving spoon of carrots onto the table. “He did what?!” she exclaims as an avox approaches to clean up the mess, using a napkin to collect the carrots that have rolled onto the floor.

“He didn’t hit me it was just to startle me. It was more than a few centimetres off, completely missed my hand.”

“So what did you do?” Finnick asks, a hint of apprehension in his gaze.

“I gave him back his spear and when he threw it again and went out to collect it, I threw mine at him. Fair is fair.”

“Lia’s was a lot closer than his was, it landed right next to his in the target,” Rhys notes. “He left the station pretty soon after that and Lia continued practising there until lunch.”

“Well I commend you for having the balls to pull that off, but please don’t do it again.” Finnick chuckles, his shoulders sagging a little as he leans back into his chair.

“Don’t worry, once is enough for me.” I insist, pointing at the plate of roast meat and asking Rhys to pass it over. “I doubt I could do it again anyway.”

“Lia, you do realise that you are putting yourself in a lot of danger by pissing off the Careers before the Games even start. They’ve been training for years, for half their lives, and you’re only just learning how to use weapons now.” Phiona points out, disappointment and annoyance prevalent in her tone. My smile drops. “If you keep poking at them, they’re going to bite and it won’t be good.”

“You don’t seriously think that I stand a chance of winning, do you?”

The table falls silent, everyone halting their movements. Even the avox cleaning up the carrots pauses, glancing up at me before she turns away from the table and leaves the room. I give Phiona a long look, moving to Finnick and Rhys in quick succession. “We are all on the same page, right? I’m training to make sure I’m not a liability to Rhys; I’m doing all this training to learn how to survive long enough to be helpful, to be able to defend others and myself when I need to, so that we can last as long as possible, but Rhys is the one who stands a chance of winning.”

“That’s not how you should be looking at this, Lia,” Finnick argues and the simmering anger from earlier starts bubbling up in my chest.

“But it’s true; Rhys is the one that has the strength, skill and appeal to stay alive and get sponsors to send him what he needs in the arena. I’m just a burden for him as I am right now, the training is to make me less of one.”

“If that’s your mindset then why am I wasting my time with these private training sessions? You could’ve told me that none of this means anything to you and that you’ve already given up, I would’ve gladly left you out and worked on what Rhys wanted to do, what he wanted the Capitol to see in him so that he could get sponsors.”

“It’s not that your help doesn’t mean anything, I’ve already told you that I’m very thankful for your help, it’s that I’m dead anyway so what’s the point?” Finnick’s flare of irritation fizzles out at that. Shifting my gaze over to Phiona with her lips drawn into a tight line and Rhys who has been silent this whole time, shock and sadness swimming in his brown eyes. “I can’t beat any of the Careers; Midas and Holland can kill me easily with their strength and speed in hand-to-hand combat alone. With weapons involved, I have no chance. Davinia has hated my guts since she first saw me, she can hit a target with extreme precision from over twenty metres away with knives and over fifty metres away with a bow and arrow. Farrah wields a short sword like it is a part of her body and she’s the fittest and fastest of all the Careers. They will most certainly kill me in the first few minutes if I’m near enough to them. If I somehow manage to stay alive long enough to leave the clearing, they will track me and kill me within the first few days if I don’t do something stupid that kills me first. I’m already dead, so what’s the point in putting your resources and effort into someone who doesn’t have the ability to see it through?”

A heavy silence fills the room once I stop talking. My throat starts to close up and ache, my eyes itching and welling up with tears and I close my hands into tight fists. Excusing myself from the table, I stride out of the room and head straight for the elevators, pressing the button for the roof multiple times before the doors finally open and close behind me. I tilt my head back against the wall, letting the tears fall out the corners of my eyes before the doors ding open. Rubbing at my eyes, I walk out into the cold, empty rooftop and wander until I find a spot far from the elevator, nestled in a corner looking out over one of many street junctions. Perching myself on the think concrete edge, I lean back against a pillar and pull my knees up to my chest, holding them close and letting the tears continue to fall. Shaky, uneven breaths fill the night air alongside the sounds of celebrations drifting up from below.

“Lia, you didn’t mean it, did you?”

Wiping at my eyes, my vision clears enough to see Rhys standing a couple of metres away, eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip between his teeth. He shuffles closer, taking a seat opposite me and rests a hand against my shin.

“It’s true, isn’t it? I was never going to be the one to get out of this alive. My parents know so, the rest of Four knows so, hell the Capitol’s bets on me probably show I have no chance of winning. What am I supposed to do up against all these trained kids, against kids barely old enough to understand what all this is, against you? How am I meant to kill anyone in these Games, let alone live?”

“I thought you could be the one.” Rhys sighs. “You’ve been improving so quickly these last few days; you pack a mean punch now and with what you’ve been able to do just today with spears and knives you could easily give the others a run for their money. Lia, you’re the smartest person going into the arena and you becoming a great fighter. You can do this.”

“I don’t want to, Rhys. I’ve never wanted to. I can’t kill people, it doesn’t matter who they are to me. Training to fight and to defend myself is one thing, but actually killing someone just for the chance of getting to go home is something I could never do. I can’t. I know people say it’s not going to be a testament of who I am, that it’s okay to do it because of the situation we’re going to be in, but when is it ever okay to kill someone? When is it ever okay to kill a kid who is in the same situation as we are? We are all toys for the Capitol’s sick amusement – it’s just a matter of who they throw out last.”

Rhys nods, his free hand travelling to his shirt where a pendant rests against his collarbone. That’s new. “Where did you get that?”

“From back home, it was given to me.”

“By who?” I lean forward to see the pendant, swatting his hand away to see it clearly in the moonlight. It’s a simple pendant, a gold chain with a small turquoise stone crowned in gold at the bottom. It’s a woman’s necklace. The stone is far too small and delicate to be something meant for Rhys. I conjure up Mrs Halibut’s image in my head, but I can’t think of her ever wearing this.

“Just someone who wanted me to remember them. They didn’t need to give me this though, I don’t need a memento to remember them by.”

I nod, removing my gaze from the stone and let him brush his fingertips over it before tucking it back in his shirt. “You don’t wear it much.”

“I don’t want it to get broken during training and it isn’t something I want Panem to see. That’s not what it was given to me for.”

“That’s fair.”

Rhys slides off the concrete, extending a hand to me. “Come on, we have training to do.”

“I don’t think Finnick will want to train me tonight, or for the rest of the week.”

“He does. He wanted to come up here and talk to you, but I told him that I should be the one to do it. He’s worried about you – they both are. I don’t think Finnick’s had a mentee that didn’t want to win in one way or another.”

“I’m just being honest about it. I didn’t think they would think any differently.”

“They want both of us to survive. Finnick’s known us since we were what? Four and five? That and the fact our friend group are some of the only people in Four who don’t either worship the ground he walks on or judge him for his arrogance and pride. You were the first person to notice how much he had changed from his games and you were the first person to notice him change further with his visits to the Capitol. We didn’t believe you at first when you told us what you thought but it was pretty obvious when you looked close enough. No one else cared to check on him when his family were in that accident, but you did. You got us all to come with you to visit him in Victor’s Village and to convince him to go to the beach, to get out and do something. He’s trying to pay us back for the things we’ve done for him, but I have to admit you’re not making it easy for him.”

My mind blanks. That’s a fair reason to be annoyed at my apparent lack of motivation. Trying to give back for the times we were there for him and me not accepting it as I should. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Well, now you know. Let’s go before he thinks we’re not going to return.”

Rhys leads me to the elevator, throwing an arm over my shoulders as the doors close. “Try not to think about the end result of the games. Train so that at any given moment in the arena you can defend yourself, protect others, provide for you and maybe someone else. One task at a time, okay?”

“Alright. One task at a time.”


	6. Tensions and Interview Testing

The doors slide open and I jump when I see Finnick leaning against the wall opposite us. He takes in my appearance – no doubt finding red-rimmed eyes, blotchy cheeks and my knotty hair hanging over my shoulders in a frizzy mess. He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

“I’m sorry for saying those things. I know that as a mentor you don’t want your tributes to think that way or to treat their training as such and as my friend I understand why my blunt decisiveness towards my luck in the arena would’ve been upsetting to hear. If you’re still okay with it, I’d like to train with you and Rhys tonight.”

Finnick’s mouth closes, his shoulders sagging and his eyes pooling with too many emotions to decipher. He nods, pushing off the wall and walking through to the living room. I nudge Rhys to go first, sitting on the couch looking over the back of it to watch. The two begin sparring; as Rhys and Finnick are roughly the same height and build, their bouts last for a while but eventually, Finnick wins with his experience and agility. Rhys can hold his own for a while, but he either drops his guard or he has his weight unevenly centred which makes it difficult for him to change directions or switch feet swiftly. He still tends to drift upwards in his stance too which doesn’t help him, but against others, he definitely has the skill and power to take them down.

“You lasted longer this time, that’s great. And that sweep would’ve worked on someone who wasn’t expecting it.”

“What gave me away?” Rhys asks, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“You looked down,” I reply. “Because you looked down, he knew you were checking to see where his feet were to sweep. If you’d kept looking at his face you would’ve been fine.”

“Exactly.” Finnick rolls his shoulders back as Rhys and I switch. I get into position, waiting for him to start punching, but he stands still with a conflicted look in his eyes.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, you’re looking great.”

“Okay, so go.”

Reluctantly, he throws a punch and I duck out of the way, stepping to the side and jabbing him in the ribs before shuffling backwards with my guards high. He throws a single punch again and I repeat my movements, this time kneeing him in the stomach as I move through. Cocking my head to the side, I note his slacking guard and stubborn feet.

“Do you not want to spar? You’re not as aggressive as you usually are.”

“It’s not that.”

“Is it because of what I said at the dinner table? I’m sorry, I’ll try hard and change my view on the games. Rhys has already helped a bit with that.”

“It’s not that either.”

I glance over at Rhys. He’s smiling fondly, looking down at the couch cushions chuckling under his breath. “Just say it.”

“It’s not that simple.” Finnick grounds out, dropping his guard and raking a hand through his hair.

“When are you going to have another chance to say it?” Rhys continues, looking encouragingly over at Finnick while I remain out of the loop.

“What’s going on?” I survey their facial expressions, the tone of their voices and the general mood of the room. Nothing’s adding up. “Should I go?”

“You’re staying here.” Rhys points at me and picks himself up off the couch. “I’ll go.”

“But-” it’s too late to call him back in as he’s left the room in the blink of an eye, my outstretched arm extending towards an empty space. Turning back to Finnick, I bite my lip and play with my fingers, unsure of how to continue this conversation. “Do you, um, what to sit down? I can get you some water or something?”

“I don’t need anything, thank you though,” Finnick whispers, taking a step closer and placing a hand on my forearm, wheeling me around the end of the couch and onto the soft cushions as he paces the floor in front of it. He stops occasionally, clenching his jaw or tilting his head to the side in thought before he shakes himself out of it and starts pacing once more. After a few minutes, he abruptly stops, spinning to face me completely. “What you said at dinner had me thinking about a lot of things.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did-”

“It’s okay. It’s actually good to hear something different for a change.” Finnick smiles half-heartedly. “Makes things interesting.”

“So, what did you think about?”  
Finnick glances up at the ceiling, hands on his hips before taking a seat on the other end of the couch, facing me still. I rotate my body to face him, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“Well, firstly you made me think about how very different we are. We grew up in the same district, in the same block of houses, yet our lives and upbringings are so different. I got into the academy the first chance I could, my father wanted it that way, and I spent my time training and becoming a trained killer without ever really realising what that would mean. You, on the other hand, grew up with parents who were against the idea of sending their child to the academy. You spent your life being a kid, doing what kids should do, and living an innocent life. You learnt how to be kind, how to listen to others, how to read people and what to say to make them feel better. I remember when I came back you were one of the only people who genuinely wanted to know how I was feeling. You wanted to help me, and you would get your friends to help drag me places so that I wouldn’t forget what life I had before I was reaped. I remember sitting up on the stage the year after I won, listening to the girl’s name get called out and thinking “I’m glad it’s not Lia”, and I did that for four years. Then this year your name got called out, I didn’t believe it at first, and I saw all the girls in your pen and the pen behind you sigh in relief. I wanted to scream at them to volunteer, to do what they’d be spending years working towards, but no one did. Then you looked at me in the middle of the aisle and you looked like you’d come to terms with dying already. I thought then and there that I should put everything I could into making sure you would have the best chance possible of winning, even going as far as neglecting the other tribute and getting him to do whatever he wanted to, but then Rhys’ name was called and I knew I couldn’t do that.”

I don’t speak, merely wait for him to continue in his own time. “Then I thought about the train ride when we first started discussing what to do. You sounded like you knew already what to do even though you’d never held a weapon before. You spoke so clearly, asked all the right questions, and I thought wow there’s something people don’t know about you. You were so eager to learn and find a good fit for yourself. When you mentioned the food restrictions for this week, I was amazed because even I wouldn’t have thought of that. You kept coming up with great points and each new thing you suggested was better than the last, it showed how willing you were to prepare for the arena and how self-aware you were. But then what you said at dinner put in into perspective for me. I had started thinking you were like me – ready to go into the arena and fight to win. I realised how wrong I was at that and the more I thought about it, about you and who you are, the more I remembered how gentle and kind you are. You’re not a fighter, though you may train like one. You’re a giver. You give and give until you have nothing left and you willingly let people use your time and effort to better themselves. I didn’t see it before because I was so used to people wanting to win for themselves. I should’ve known from the start.”

I lean my head against the plush headrest, sharing a sad smile with Finnick. “Sorry about that.”

He chuckles, “Stop apologising. You’ve done nothing wrong. You never have.”

“That’s a lie, I need more hands to count the things I’ve done wrong this year alone.” I smile, resting my hands on the tops of my knees. “You’re a great mentor, Finnick. I hope you know that. I don’t think there’s anyone out there that would put so much work into prepping us for interviews, training and the eventual arena like you have.”

“It’s my job.”

“It’s not, you could’ve let any of the other victors be our mentor and you could’ve spent this time at home, resting and being able to sleep without the sounds of parties and celebrations next door.”

“As nice as that sounds, I would’ve been here one way or another,” Finnick replies, a hint of bitterness in his voice. A sad smile weighs down on his lips.

“Would they have asked you to come here during all this? I thought there would be too many things going on to need to call you here.”

“They don’t ask, they demand, and who better to have by your side than a victor who can tell you who is likely to win? I would have spent this whole month going from one person to the next with no resting or sleeping, genuine sleeping, at all.”

“Has this been happening since you turned sixteen? Y’know, the sex and parties and all that.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Finnick sighs, throwing his head against the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry.”

“You and your sorrys, none of it is your fault, Lia.” Finnick looks like he wants to say more but he bites his tongue, looking over to the clock on the wall. “It’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Genuine sleep or your kind of sleep?” I ask, happy to see his face light up a bit as he lets out a laugh. I roll off the couch, stretching my stiffening joints as I go. Looking back at him, I pause at the doorway and my smile slips away. “You should sleep too Finnick.”

Training for the rest of the week returns to normal, or as normal as it can get. I switch between the spears and knives stations, not really hiding anything from the rest of the tributes, and occasionally I return to the survival stations to keep my memory sharp. After the final full day, when the four of us are sitting around the dinner table with small desserts and fruit before us, Finnick goes over the individual testing scenario once more.

“You’ll have ten minutes to show the Gamemakers your talents. You’re lucky; they tend to get bored after the second hour so your scores will be as close to a true reflection on your skills as possible. The Gamemakers see District Four as a Career district and pay attention most of the time to our tributes. You’ll all be waiting in a room together sitting in order of your district, Lia will be the first to go in out of you two. Don’t worry too much about covering everything you can do – stick with one or two things you’re confident with and take your time. Don’t rush it, just go at the pace you’ve been training at and make sure you’re covering all the points you’ve been told. Once you’re done, you’ll be sent to the elevator and you’ll come back here. After everyone is done, they deliberate, and the scores will be announced in the late afternoon. Even if your score is low, it doesn’t matter. We can spin it that you’re hiding what you can do to look weak among the other tributes. I highly doubt your scores will be low, given how hard you’ve been working these past two weeks.”

“So, the worst part will be waiting for an hour before we can go in.” I smile at Rhys. “You can tell me more about that necklace of yours while we wait.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” He argues, shoving my shoulder playfully. “All you’re going to do interrogate me further and probably start punching me.”

“Why would I do that? Is it someone I know?”

“You know everyone, Lia. Be a little more specific.” Finnick hints, sending me a smirk. I narrow my eyes at Rhys who can tell he’s just dug himself into a hole.

“Why would I punch you? Is it because I’m friends with her?” Three things tell me exactly who it is at once. Rhys’ expression becomes guilty, not only that but his cheeks redden too, and he ducks his head down to hide. The chuckle coming from Finnick tells me I’ve narrowed it down significantly, I can feel the excitement rolling off him as he spectates. The necklace, only just peeking out from his shirt, glimmers in the warm light and suddenly I remember her wearing it on the day of the Reaping.

“You’ve known Brooke, my best friend, for as long as you’ve known me. Are you telling me that you two have had a thing of each other and are only now, after pining over each other for years, telling each other how you feel? Are you kidding me right now?”

“It’s not that easy, you see-”

“Rhys Halibut don’t you dare tell me it’s not that easy. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I’ve seen the way she looks at you, why didn’t you do this earlier when you had the time to be with her?”

“Because of Beck and Alessandra.”

I sigh. “You didn’t tell her because you didn’t want to jinx it.” It was a sad joke that everyone knew; Beck had asked Alessandra out a month before the Reaping and the two fell deeply in love with each other. They’d waited for months, years even to tell each other how they felt because they didn’t want to get into something and have the Games tear them apart. Beck, eighteen and done with waiting, confessed to her and said that he wouldn’t get chosen. He did. Then when no one volunteered, their romance quickly hit a wall and Alessandra, still madly in love with the boy who will never come back to her, hasn’t recovered since.

“That turned out well, didn’t it? It doesn’t matter if I said it or didn’t.”

“She was going to confess to you after the Reaping, did she tell you during the goodbyes?”

“She did… sort of. She didn’t know what to say because you were the other tribute. She couldn’t exactly say “forget her and come back home” could she?”

“Yes, she could’ve! She should’ve! I thought I taught her better than this.” My volume escalates, hands waving around to further emphasise my point.

“Don’t get started on that, you know you’re just as bad.” Rhys turns in his chair, pointing at me.

“I am not! I don’t go talking to the person I like every day for the last fourteen years not telling her I love her.”

“No, but when someone loves you you’re completely oblivious to it.”

“No one loves me, what are you talking about?”

“Alright, we’re going to stop there,” Finnick states, breaking our argument apart. “Now that you know about the necklace, you’re going to have to find something else to occupy your time with while you wait.”

“I know what I want to talk about,” Rhys mutters, sending Finnick a challenging glare. Phiona steps in, snapping her fingers between the two.

“Alright, let’s move on, shall we? We have more important things to discuss. Your interviews are having in two days’ time and I doubt you’ve been rehearsing anything or testing yourself on possible questions that may be asked. Instead of training tonight, you’re going to practice presenting yourselves to us. We need to start building your personas, getting you used to putting on a show for the Capitol.” She shoots up, brushing down her emerald green silk blouse. “Let’s get moving, we haven’t got all night.”

Moving to the living room, Phiona lounges in the one-seater and points at Rhys and I to take the couch, leaving Finnick to lean against the mantel by the tv. She pours herself a glass of bourbon from the array of decanters at the bar adjacent to her and takes a swig before narrowing her eyes on Rhys.

“Rhys, tell me about yourself.”

“Um, what do you want to know.”

Phiona scoffs. “Everything and anything; what you think of the Capitol, how training has been going, what you did the last night you were in Four.”

“The Capitol is eccentric, training has been eye-opening and I sat on the beach and contemplated swimming out into the waves and never coming back.”

“How sparse, give me details. What is your favourite thing about the Capitol that you’ve seen so far?”

“I’ve gone to the rooftop several times, looking out over the city and seeing everyone having fun and all the performers showing off in the streets has been a new experience. I would like to have gone down there and seen it up close – the firebreather is amazing, isn’t he.”

“That he is.” She takes another sip, shifting her eyes to me. “Lia, tell me what it was like hearing your name get called at the Reaping. Were you scared?”

“I wouldn’t say scared, it was more a state of disbelief. When everyone started staring at me, I was uncomfortable but what can you do about that.”

“You looked stunning at the welcoming ceremony in your teal and gold dress, tell me, were you behind the decision to make it look as sexy as it did?”

My cheeks redden immediately. “No, that wasn’t why intention at all-”

“But why not, you are a beautiful girl, surely you had someone to think about while you rode on the chariot looking like that. Tell me, what’s his name?”

My whole body feels like it is on fire, burning with embarrassment. I don’t know how to respond, instead, I find myself clamming up and staring down at my fidgety hands.

“You’re as red as a strawberry, Lia. I haven’t even started getting deeper.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Be honest.”

“It’s hard to be honest when you’re so plain.”

“You are not plain, you’re pure. There’s a big difference. If you don’t know how to respond, just yes or no.”

“Okay.”

Phiona jumps between the two of us, asking a variety of questions and digging for details from time to time. She tries to catch us off guard, getting us to mention certain things to pull at the threads. A lot of the time I’m resorting to yeses and noes which causes Phiona to grin but continue picking on me anyway. Finally, after what feels like hours, she sits back in her chair and tops up her glass. “You’re getting the hang of it, Rhys. You’ve very good with thinking on your feet and giving answers that will humour the crowd. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you, Lia. You’re very closed off, even though you don’t mean to be. What can I do to make it easier for you to speak?”

“Write me a script.”

Phiona’s laugh flitters through the room, warm and smooth. “Oh, my lovely Lia, you are just too cute. Perhaps you’re thinking too far into it. Answer my questions like you would if I came to you for advice. Lots of people come to you for advice, right? They talk to you, so tell me what I need to hear to know what to do myself. You think you can do that?”

“I’ll try.”

Phiona smiles. “Lia, you looked so brave when you were reaped. Where you prepared for your name to get called out?”

“Thank you, but I didn’t feel brave, or prepared for that matter. I was shocked, a little upset, but no one volunteered so I had to suck it up and go up on stage. There wasn’t anything I could do to change that I was reaped, so I accepted it and moved on.”

“Were you thinking of anyone when you walked up on stage? Family? Friends?”

“I wasn’t, no. But not because I didn’t want to. I just didn’t know what to think at the time.”

“What was your reaction to Rhys’ name being called out? You seem to have found him in the crowd immediately.”

“Rhys and I are good friends, we’ve known each other since we were very little. I was talking to him and a few others before the reaping started so I knew where he was. Everything hit me then; the fact that I was not only headed for the games but that one of my best friends was going in with me, that I may never see my family of friends again. It was a lot.”

“I bet. How has your training been going? Have you had any prior experience with weapons and fighting?”

“Training was a very new experience, before arriving here I had never used weapons and I certainly didn’t know how to fight. Learning new skills is always good, I just didn’t expect to learn so much about survival and combat.”

“Not something you ever saw yourself doing?”

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head adamantly, earning another smile from Phiona.

“If you and Rhys are good friends, what are you going to do in the arena?”

“We’re going to look out for each other, at least I hope we are, but I’m going to do my very best to support him and make sure he lasts through to the end and gets to go home.”

“So, you don’t want to go home?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go home. I’d love to return to District Four. But if it comes down to Rhys and me, I want him to go home. He deserves to.”

Phiona nods, quiet for a few seconds before sipping and clearing her throat. “That was a lot better, does it feel more natural to come at the questions like that? Because it definitely flows better and gives the audience more of a look into who you are and what you’re like with others.”

“It still doesn’t feel right telling everyone these things.”

“That’s what you have to do, unfortunately. This loyalty to your friendship may work a lot better than we originally thought. I can tell you really mean it when you talk about Rhys. If the Capitol sees your friendship for what it is then I can see many sponsors lining up to send you gifts to help you two out.”

“Do Wren and Zakari have our outfits made up already?”

“Zakari does. Wren is tossing up between two dresses – both are gorgeous don’t worry too much about it. When it comes to getting ready, she will have both to try on if she really can’t make up her mind.”

“I was more concerned with how showy they are.”

Phiona flashes me a wide grin. “She’s taken your preferences into consideration, but she’s also taken mine too so we will see the final product later.”  
“Either you really hate me, or you know exactly how to convince Wren to do something because the look on your face already tells me I’ve lost,” I mutter, shoulder sagging with the resolute grin on her face.

“You may call it a loss. I’m calling it a show of beauty. You are beautiful, Lia. Let the Capitol see it.”

Throwing my head back into the couch, I groan and smother my face with my hands. Rhys sniggers and nudges my side, jovial over my discontent. Phiona sends us off to bed soon after, telling us we need to get a good sleep in before the tests. Rhys lingers in the room, heading to Finnick and murmuring in a low voice difficult to hear clearly from far away. Slinking out of the room, I shake the remaining tension from my shoulders and get ready for bed.


	7. Individual Testing and Interviews

The morning goes by quickly; breakfast is a quiet ordeal and the nerves bouncing around in my chest limit me from contributing to the minimal discussions. Getting changed into matching training gear and heading to the elevator takes no longer than five minutes and with a few encouraging words, Rhys and I are zooming down to the raining rooms. Once we arrive, they herd us into the waiting room and as it fills with tributes a squeezing pressure pushes down on my chest. Rhys must notice my paling face as he’s quick to grab my hand and rub circles over my knuckles.

Before long, Davinia’s name is called, her sleek black hair the last sight I see as she leaves. A small hand lands on my shoulder, muscles tensing in an anxious frenzy.

“Don’t be nervous, Lia,” Annie whispers, leaning in close to my ear. “You’re going to get the highest score. You’re so good, they won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”

“You’re too kind, Annie.” I shake my head, swivelling around to talk to her face-to-face. In my peripherals I see Annie’s district partner watching us closely, his eyes locked on me. I poke Annie’s side. “You’ve got a lot to choose from, any thoughts on what you want to show them?”

“I wanted to go through the survival stations and show them how quickly I can do those things, but my mentor said that wasn’t a good idea. I’m not sure what to do.”

“What comes easiest to you? You were pretty good with climbing the nets, you could incorporate that into it. Maybe using some knives as well?”

“We’ll see. I don’t reckon I’ll get a good score anyway.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t care about the outer districts.” Annie shrugs. “I’ll get a low score because of who I am anyway.”

“If that’s what you think then do what you want to do. Work in the survival stations; show them your knot-tying skills and your quick thinking in the edible plants station. You’re so quick and efficient, they won’t be able to give you a low mark once they see you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” I smile broadly at her, catching the sparkle of her doe eyes as she returns it. I turn back around to face forwards, Rhys resting a hand on my knee as he bounces his own. “What did you say again about passing time in here? Something about knowing what you wanted to talk about?”

He huffs, a smile creeping up onto his face. “Ignore me, that’s not a conversation I’m supposed to have in here, or ever.”

“Why not?”

“I was warned against it, threatened with bodily harm if I so much as muttered a word.”

“Well sucks to be you, doesn’t it? I’m curious now – tell me what you wanted to say.”

“Later.” I raise my eyebrow, cocking my head to the side. “It’s not a conversation for prying ears, I’ll tell you later.”

“Alright, if you say so.” I pull my shoulders back, feeling my joints and spine click. “What is your plan when you get in there?”

“Planning to use it, are you?”

“Maybe, depends on how good it is.” I chuckle. “Seriously though, are you planning on working with swords? Know that Midas is definitely going to use them, as is Lachlan.”

“Swords, maybe some hand to hand fighting with an instructor if they let us. I think now is a good time to show strength, especially since that’s what’s expected from me.”

“Not a bad plan. What about spears? You’ve been playing with them for a couple of days.”

“I’m not proficient enough to make a memorable impact with them. I’ll stick to swords. What will you do?”

“Same as I have been – Spears, knives. I don’t know about hand-to-hand though, I don’t want to mess up and potentially bring my score down.”

“Just don’t overthink it. Talk through the checks in your head and then go for it, just like everything else. We don’t have much time in there so if you’re comfortable just doing the weapons then that’s alright. Take your time with them, show off what you can do.”

I nod, fingers rubbing over my nails and knuckles again as Midas’ name gets called. I don’t look to see him leave, instead, I focus on a point on the floor and zone out, briefly returning when names are called out. Farrah. Holland. The two from Three. Once the boy leaves my knee starts jumping subconsciously, an action Rhys has to halt with the weight of his palm. Ten slow, agonising minutes pass by and when the rumble of my name is called over the speaker I stand, shaking out my tense limbs and heading to the training centre.

Without all the tributes and trainers there, the space feels very empty. The head trainer stands off to the side, hands tucked behind his back while giving me a nod. I shuffle closer to the front of the room where the Gamemakers are lounging around above me, some talking between mouthfuls of liquor and chocolates. Lysander Cayhen stands tall, a flute of champagne in his left hand as he smiles down at me.

“You have ten minutes to show us your chosen skills. Should you need a partner, call upon Alexander.”

I nod, thanking him before I take a deep breath and stride towards the spears station. Ten spears are available to use, all standing upright in a metal cage. Taking my time, I pull one out and check my stance before drawing my arm up to prepare. Thrusting it out of my grasp, it hits the silhouette ten meters away in the chest, the opposite side of the heart. Next one hits the head. Shoulder. Stomach. Chest. Head. Chest. Shoulder. Head. With the final spear in hand, I aim for the furthermost target, inhaling through my nose. 1. 2. 3.

With a grunt, I throw the spear as hard as I can, watching it soar through the air and into the chest of the target – right where the heart would be. A small smile pulls at my lips, and I quickly move to the knives station. The same deal, ten knives out on a table. This time I pluck two up at a time, quicker off the mark as I prepare and throw them. As they are significantly lighter, they’re also easier to aim so I make sure to target the fatal areas. Picking out the furthermost five target I aim once to the chest and once to the head – each lands a little differently on each target but the hits would be severe, if not fatal, so I’m happy with that.

I look around, checking the clock above the Gamermakers heads. Four minutes remaining. I glance around, biting my lip as I consider my options; there’s little to do in the survival stations in four minutes, and I haven’t done training with other weapons that would be easy to show off. The fitness course isn’t that impressive either. My eyes land on our head trainer, Alexander, and I nod my head.

“I’d like to do some hand-to-hand combat with you if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” He walks up to the designated floor space for sparring, raising his arms up apprehensively. “Are you sure you want to show them this? You haven’t done this during the training sessions.” he whispers.”

“I’m sure,” I reply, holding up my guard. Giving him one last nod, I set my sights on his form and watch as he lunges forwards for a jab, dodging smoothly and ducking under the next jab, landing a lunge punch to the ribs. He backs up and I take my opening; coming forwards with a jab and keeping my bent knees level, I lunge forward into my punch, engaging the hips like I’ve been told to and land the hit in the solar plexus, followed by a knee to the gut before I step out on the diagonal and out of his reach. He grunts, but not audibly enough to alert the Gamemakers, and the corner of his lip points up in a hidden smile.

He doesn’t hold back the second time; the timing between his attacks is significantly smaller, almost undetectable, and his guard constantly covers his face. He tries to sweep me, failing only because I happen to switch feet at the same time. Twice I find myself wearing hits to the body, thankful that the conditioning exercises have done something to lessen the blows. Knowing it’s my last chance to land a hit, I spring forwards as he does and duck under his extended arm, stepping around behind him and kicking out the back of his knee to bring him to the ground, finishing off with a forceful push to his back to put his chest on the floor. My rugged breathing fills the silence within the room before Lysander announces my time is up. I extend a hand to Alexander, thanking him before I turn to the Gamemakers and thank them before leaving.

Before I know it, the elevator doors have opened onto our floor and I step out, shocked and disorientated. Finnick and Phiona exit the dining space and upon seeing my addled self, pause a few meters away from me. “Are you okay, Lia?”

“I think so.”

“How’d it go?” Finnick asks.

“Alright I guess, some things could’ve been a bit tidier, more accurate, but otherwise I think it went well.”

“Fantastic, go get yourself a drink and we can wait in the lounge for Rhys.” Phiona grins, striding forwards to place a hand on my shoulder. “You can relax, Lia. You’ve done your part for now.”

I nod, taking a moment to shake myself into action which causes Finnick to chuckle. Heading to the lounge, I make a beeline for the bar-cart and pour myself two fingers of bourbon, tipping it down my throat in one go. I then grab for the jug of water and fill my glass up before settling onto the couch.

“Eager to forget your test, are you?” Finnick sits at the other end of the couch, an arm slung over the back of it as he nurses his own drink.

“It’s not that, I’m just so tense. It’s exhausting.”

“Well you’re going to be like that until late this afternoon, so you might want to pour yourself another glass.”  
I scoff at the thought. “I’ll pace myself.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few more minutes until the elevator doors ding open, Rhys stepping out and calling out for me. Leading him to the lounge with a half-hearted “in here”, we wait for him to settle himself down with a glass of water in hand.

“How did you do?”

“Good, though I’m more interested in hearing what you did. Alexander mentioned that if I was anything like you, he’d be in trouble.”

“What the hell did you do to warrant that response, Lia?” Finnick scrunches his brow, staring back at me as I glance over.

“Well I had some time left after I finished up with the weapons, so I asked him to do some sparring with me.”

“You sparred with the head trainer? The guy who is double your weight and at least a foot taller than you?”

“Well, I didn’t want to waste four minutes pulling weapons out of targets just to use them again so I thought that it may be best to try my skills with sparring someone other than you and Rhys for a change.”

“So, you worked with your weapons and then you sparred. What about you Rhys?”

“I did some work with the sword with Alexander and then we moved into sparring. Figured it would be easier to stop working with a weapon first than sparring hand-to-hand, so I did it that way round.”

“Well, it sounds like the two of you used your time wisely, that’s good. The result won’t be out for another three hours or so – relax, have some more food, get another drink.” Phiona encourages, gesturing loosely with her free hand.

Time passes excruciatingly slow with nothing to do. No matter how many glasses I sip through, the tension in my shoulders remains, in fact, the only thing it leaves me with is a foggy head and an unfocused sight that invites a headache along before the results are ready to be announced. The four of us, Zakari and Wren sit in the lounge awaiting the scores with bated breath, my hand clutching Rhys’ so hard my nails dig into the flesh of his palm. The preamble lasts much longer than it should, but eventually, Caesar and the other announcer begin to list off the scores. The Careers score big, as excepted, Midas and Holland earning 10s while Davinia and Farrah earn 9s. Three don’t fair too well in comparison, the girl receiving a 5 and the boy a 6, but that’s expected for many of the middle-range districts.

“From District Four. Lia Williams with a score of…”

Please be decent. I beg. Please be enough to show sponsors that I am able, that I am a worthy candidate. Please let me give Rhys the best chance possible to win. Rhys’ grip tightens the longer the pause carries on for. Everyone is silent, armrests and tumbler glasses under intense holds as Caesar remains mute.

“10.”

My mouth drops open. 10. I scored a 10.

“Holy shit.” I exhale, losing grip on Rhys’ hand as my taunt muscles relax at once. Voices congratulate me quietly, hands clapping my shoulders from behind me. The noise settles quickly as Caesar continues.

“And from District Four, Rhys Halibut with a score of…”

This time Rhys’ hand grabs mine, trapping it in a stone grip as the continued silence drags on.

“10 also.”

I turn to him, shock and disbelief plastered on his face, and I throw my arms around him. District Four has the best scores, and likely we will get high bets too which mean one glorious, beautiful thing. Sponsors.

“Well done you two, I don’t think we could be any happier, any prouder! A toast to our hard-working, diligent tributes: Lia and Rhys!” Phiona announces, raising her topped up bourbon skyward. The rest of us follow, throwing back our drinks merrily. We celebrate with a full table of food, pleading with Zakari and Wren to stay for dinner before they leave for the night. More drinks are had, though Finnick makes sure to switch ours out for an amber coloured juice after the first toast to ensure we don’t get hangovers the following morning. As he sits down next to me at the table, sliding my new drink over which upon testing tastes strongly of apples, he gives me a bright smile.

“It’s good to see that training you two in private paid off, I should commend you for coming up with the idea in the first place.”

“It comes down to having a great teacher, we wouldn’t have gotten such high scores without you.”

Finnick’s toothy grin eases into a smirk, though the curve of his mouth is a lot softer than his statement smirk usually is. There’s also a warmth in his eyes, likely from the several drinks he’s already consumed. “To you two and to me then, cheers.”

“Cheers.” We clink glasses, our private toast lost in the ruckus and conversations surrounding us.

We all head to bed late, even though we’d started drinking around four in the afternoon. The morning schedule is slow and relaxed with no immediate tasks to do until the early afternoon. We each wake up groggy, I myself a little forgetful upon first opening my eyes, but we all convene in the dining room for a late breakfast and jog our memories of how to behave in the interviews. The sibling-style relationship is a given, but as for the rest Phiona tells us to be as approachable and flexible as possible – “let Caesar cast up an idea of who you are for the audience. He runs in those kinds of circles, he will know how to serve you up to the Capitol. Fill in the gaps he leaves you and play along with him. Now that we know we will have sponsors lining up for blocks on end, we can be a bit lax with your preparations.”

Phiona takes me down to the prep centre in the early afternoon, letting Rhys stay behind with Finnick for a while longer. Understandably so, it will take me a little while longer to get ready opposed to him. When I arrive, a few other tributes are down already as are some Peacekeepers which strikes me as a bit odd.

“Why are they here?” I whisper, inclining my head to Phiona as we weave between working bodies to our room.

“Since the scores have been released, there’s the potential for malice and ill-intent towards those who may have received a higher score than others. They’re here to ensure there are no fights between tributes.”

Opening the door, Phiona ushers me in and waves at Wren from the doorway. “Have you decided on the dress yet?”

“I think so, but I won’t tell you. You’ll have to come back later and find out.” Wren grins, beckoning me forward to the mini vanity set up adorned with dozens of compacts, makeup brushes and products. As I settle into the chair, I turn my head slightly to look up at her.

“Where are Dahlia, Felix and Juniper? Are they coming a bit later?”

“Actually, I asked them if I could do your makeup myself. I wanted to make sure the look was perfect for what I am going for. Hence why you’re here many hours before you need to be. I want to take my time with you, shall we begin?”

I nod eagerly, turning to face the rectangular mirror before me. It starts out calm, a peaceful silence resting between us as she works on my face. She swipes liquids and creams over my cheeks and forehead, dabbing them down with a sponge, then follows up with powders of pink, brown and gold. The more product that goes on my face though, the more anxious I begin to feel as the reality of what will happen settles under my skin and into my chest.

“Wren can you help me with something?”

“Absolutely, what is it?”

“I’m nervous about the interview. Well, nervous is a bit of an understatement. I’m scared. I don’t know what to say; Phiona has been helping us for the last few days get to grips with what it’ll be like and how to answer the questions, but I can never get the right words to come outright. I’m not very good with expressing myself, so I can’t help but think that I will blow our chance at getting so many sponsors because I can’t articulate myself.”

“What are you comfortable talking about?”

“I don’t know, I’m not one to start a conversation with people I don’t really know. I just answer politely until the conversation stops.”

Wren breathes out a soft chuckle, lips curling up in a smile as she angles my face towards her. “I’m not surprised about that, but I’m a little surprised with how little you are aware of your presence. I’ve known you for two weeks, we’ve barely seen each other in that time and I already feel like I’ve known you for my whole life. I feel like you’re my younger sister, Lia, and this is the first heart-to-heart conversation we’re having. I’m not known for making friends, in fact that’s partly why I decided to become a stylist – I wouldn’t have to make friends to work, I work on my own and make pieces for kids who don’t bother me, who don’t try and get to know me, and the cycle continues. You are the first person who I have actually wanted to get to know in this place. If you can shift my attitude and way of life, then you will have no problems attracting the hearts of everyone else who is already open to it.”

She stops applying powder to my cheeks, staring at me through the mirror. “Talk from your heart. Don’t worry about speaking correctly or trying to sound a certain way. Sincere impromptu answers work a lot better than any rehearsed speech ever could.”

I nod, the thank you stuck in my throat as tears gather in my eyes. With the edge of a tissue, Wren dab at the inner corners of my eyes, smiling down at me with her own emerald eyes glistening.

“Now close your eyes for me, its time for the eyeshadows.”

“Can you tell me more about yourself, Wren? If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

With each flitter of a brush or fingertip on my eyelids, Wren offers up a detail of her life; she’s the middle child of three, she grew up in District One and moved to the Capitol as soon as she got a placement in a fashion house, she is very rarely seen out in crowds, however, she religiously frequents a bar in the eastern section of the city with a handful of friends, she wishes she was allowed to return home every so often but not only is she restricted from doing so, her parents have turned their back on her. Not all the details and stories are happy, but I don’t care. In fact, I prefer it that way. That’s how I know she’s real, that she’s not a picture-perfect woman in the Capitol looking for fame. She’s never wanted that. All she wants, all she has ever wanted, it to express herself and her ideas in a way that is both private and public – she can put her emotions her thoughts and anger towards a piece and once its complete she can decide whether or not she wants others to see it. She gets to decide how much of her life people see.

“It’s not the same for you, of course, but it's part of why I wanted to be a designer for tributes. You are children. You shouldn’t have your lives picked apart and broadcast across the country for others’ entertainment. If there is any consolation I can give, anyway I can hide the kids like you who I see every year, then I will dress them up in my pieces and give the Capitol something to look at that isn’t the vulnerable child wearing it. It’s not about my pieces being amazing or jaw-dropping, it’s about letting the child keep part of themselves hidden behind something.”

“That’s a very kind thing to do, Wren.” I reply softly, worried I’ll break the tender mood in the room.

“I do what I can.” She pats my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Okay, I believe it’s time to dress you up. You can go stand on the podium.”

I do so quickly, eyes open to scale the few steps but shut them once I’m stable on the platform. Wren helps me blindly remove my shirt and pants, holding my hand as I step into the dress. It takes a little bit of effort to get it over my hips, but it slides up with minimal struggles. Looping my arms through the sleeves, she zips me up from the back and coaches me through lifting each foot up to slip on a pair of shoes more comfortable than the last pair of heels I wore.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

The bodice and sleeves are similar to my first dress with the dipping neckline and draping over-the-shoulder material. The gold-bronze satin material catches the light, shifting the shine in the fabric a little which is subtle but eye-catching. The bare shoulder and collarbone area bring attention to the slight muscle I’ve built in my arms and shoulders, and although it is a lot of skin showing, it comes across as more mature, more elegant in a way. The bodice is simple, nothing extra done to it, and the formfitting skirt begins to flare out above my knees. Down my left side, a thigh-high slit exposes my toned leg – that causes a red blush to bloom on my face and chest.

“So Phiona did win you over.”

“And how glad I am that I did.” The culprit beams from the doorway separating Rhys’ room to mine, arms folded over her chest as she scans my figure. “You look ravishing, Lia. The Sea Queen is well and truly a threat.”

“Let me just put on the finishing touches and then you can sit down,” Wren notes, heading over to a box set up on the coffee table and picking up various pieces of gold jewellery. Dozens of thin gold bangles are slid up each arm, a gold and turquoise charm bracelet clipped around my left ankle, and thick gold rings adorn my fingers, gemstones of varying shades of blue and green gleaming in the light. Finally, a gold chain with weaving links is sat across my collarbones, dressing the otherwise empty space.

“Absolutely stunning, my dear.” Phiona grins. Wren nods in agreement, hand tucked under her chin as she gives me a once over.

“Let’s finish off with your hair, I feel like leaving it done and putting some waves into it will be the best look, don’t you Phiona?”

“You don’t want to keep it off her collarbones?”

“It can fall down her back easy enough, plus her hair doesn’t like to stay up for very long – it starts drooping too quickly.” Wren leads me to the chair and pulls out a hair iron which is twists and twirls to spin curls into my hair. As the last strand is being set, a knock on the adjoining door echoes through the room.

“Is she decent?” a muffled voice asks.

“More than just decent,” Wren smirks, setting the iron down to grab a tall canister of spray which she douses my head in. The stuff stinks and lingers in the air and I must cough a few times to clear the tickle in my throat upon inhaling it.

“You’re definitely not wrong about that,” Finnick states, gaining my attention. Spinning around to face him causes his mouth to drop open a little more, his eyes darting all over me from my face to my collarbones and shoulders, to my hands and leg peeking out from the side of the dress. “Do you still think you won’t have sponsors after this?”

“I’m hoping some will still hang around.”

He scoffs, tilting his head down to grin at the floor for a moment before pulling himself back up and sending a smile my way. “I think more than a few will stick around. It’s almost time to head out, you ready?”

“I don’t think there’s anything else I need?” I glance around to Phiona and Wren who shake their heads, gesturing me towards Finnick and the room where Rhys is. I get up slowly, testing out the shoes which I note look a lot different from the other ones. Walking is a lot easier and the pressure in my heels is non-existent at the time. A smile begins to bloom on my lips as I pass Finnick and see Rhys dressed in a crisp gold-bronze shirt similar to the colour of my dress and fitted black slacks and a blazer. Shiny black shoes cover his feet and his hair is styled in a very clean, mature way. “Well don’t you look dashing.”

Rhys gapes like a fish for a minute, glancing down at the slit in my dress and the charms circling my ankle. “You look so old. This is nothing like you at all.”

“Live a little, Rhys.” I step closer to him, up in front of him where I unbutton the top button of his shirt and pull the collar out a little. Turning to Phiona I cock my head to the side. “Too much?”

“Not enough.”

I unbutton the next one, the centre of his upper chest on display and his collarbones beginning to peak through. Even with the blazer on, his shoulders were prominent, and his stature looked impressive.

“Much better, now you two don’t look like you’re here to sit and look pretty.” Phiona grins, though there’s a sombre glint in her eyes and her smile doesn’t pull as far across her face as it usually does. “I want you two to remember something; I know this isn’t the last time we will see each other, we have all of tonight and tomorrow morning for those talks, but you two have been such a joy to mentor and be in charge of. I have never felt prouder, more like a mother hen, than I have with you two.” She strides forwards, her blond hair swishing behind her as she throws herself into Rhys' chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “You two are so brave, so strong and kind and good.” She pulls away, latching onto me next with a deadly grip. The air in my lungs is squished out of me, but even if I had any, I would be choking up regardless. My arms wrap around her waist, clutching her close as she continues her speech. “I’ve seen you two grow and mature and learn in these past two weeks and I just want you to know that you have a place in my heart, the both of you, and you will be there for the rest of my life.”

She pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “I don’t care what you say tonight; I will never forget you two and I will always be rooting for you no matter what.”

“Thank you, Phiona,” I whisper, voice cracking as the lump in my throat burns the more I see the look of wholehearted sadness in her diamond blue eyes.

“No crying okay,” she chuckles, a wobbly smile gracing her face. “You can’t ruin your beautiful face before the interview.” Looping an arm around mine, Phiona tows me towards the door to the hallway and turns to look over her shoulder at Rhys. “We’ll have to leave you waiting with the other tributes, but you will find us in the audience, okay? If you’re unsure when answering, find us and talk to us.”

Nodding, we leave the room and walk down a corridor towards a different area of the floor to both the training room and the route we took to the chariots the first time we were walking around. This area, it would seem, is the area closest to the square, where Capitol citizens can enter and file into a room to watch the interviews themselves.

Steering clear of them, we weave through narrow hallways and around into a backstage area. Tributes are indeed standing around waiting, anxiety and fear clear on some of their faces whilst others showed confidence, arrogance or a stoic, empty expression. Phiona taps my arm, bidding a silent farewell before she returns down the hallway we came. Rhys bumps into my side, brushing his arm against mine as we make our way to our designated spots between Three and Five. Once we stand still, Rhys scans the area, and positions me so that my back is facing Three, and subsequently One and Two, and so that the slit in my dress is the side closest to the wall. My moment of boldness has since dissipated so I’m glad Rhys has the forethought to ease my worries just a little.

Belong long all the tributes have arrived, when Lachlan walks in with his district partner, I nod at him in greeting, having been staring at him since he came into view. He nods in return, giving me a brief smile. Through the walls we hear Caesar arrive on stage, riling up the crowd and welcoming everyone to the interviews. A Peacekeeper takes Davinia and leads her towards the stage entry, not ten seconds later she’s called up and the crowd get loud. Whistles, cheering, clapping, and hooting echo through the hall and my heart starts to race in my chest, jumping hectically the more noise they produce. Rhys takes my hand gently, squeezing after each flinch of sudden noise catches me and my frazzled nerves off-guard.

The interviews aren’t very long at all, three minutes max, so as the tributes before us peter out, each earning an uproar and final hurrah as they enter and exit, my anxious state builds. The Peacekeeper places a hand on my shoulder and I follow him, taking slow unsure steps towards the stage entry where I can hear Caesar’s final words with the boy from Three more clearly. Caesar wraps it up quickly, spurring the crowd to cheer as the boy goes off stage on the other side.

“Next up, she shocked us all with her beauty during the Welcoming Parade and she shocked us even further with her score of 10 in individual training. Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for Lia Williams!”

Deafening is the only word that comes to mind as I step on stage, eyes wide as I take in all the commotion. With so many people dressed in such garish, extravagant clothes and so many people screaming words and sentences that blurred together, it was extremely difficult to keep grounded and to stay calm. My eyes drift over to Caesar who beckons me over with an extended hand and I give him a small, thankful smile. He’s dressed in dark green from head to toe, even his hair is dyed a forest green and slicked back on top of his head. While it’s a statement, it’s a palatable one and I feel the tension in my chest lessen a fraction.

“Sweet Lia, take a seat, you look quite startled. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m alright, I just didn’t expect such a reaction from the audience.”

“But why not? You’re a star, you have so many admirers who are dying to see you!”

“I’m not used to so many people calling out to me, in fact, all of this is very new to me.”

“The Capitol, my dear?”

“The training, the crowds of people, the food. Everything is a new experience.”

“But surely a girl like you would have crowds following her around all day?”

I laugh, glancing down at my hands where my fingers are interlocking and circling each other. “I am not a very vocal person, nor am I very popular. I have a small group of friends I hang out with, but I spend most of my time listening rather than talking.”

“These friends, is Rhys one of them? You two seem very close.”

“Yes, Rhys and I have known each other since we were very little. I’m an only child and he’s a big brother to me.”

“An only child, your parents must’ve been very upset when your name was reaped.”

“They were.” I pause, glancing back down at my hands. The crowd has become dead silent, hanging onto every word spoken. “But I know my friends will look out for them. They’ll all help each other from now on.”

“You don’t think you’ll win? But you’re so talented! You got the highest score out of all the girls?”

“As I said, Rhys and I have known each other for most of our lives. I could never do him harm. I want him to return home, to see his parents again and to be with our friends and to finally ask the girl he likes out.”

“What an unfortunate place to be in. What if Rhys wasn’t your friend? What if someone else was your district partner? Do you think you could return home then?”

“No,” I smile sadly at Caesar, seeing the glimmer in his eyes die out at my statement. “I don’t think I would be in any better position, no matter the differences.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear that dear. One last thing, before we must let you go. Tell me, you look beautiful in this dress and you looked beautiful in the first dress we saw you in, don’t you think so folks?” Caesar turns to the audience, throwing it out to them for a reaction which they ardently give. Cheering and declarations of love the room and my cheeks burn red under the spotlight. “Which dress do you prefer, Lia?”

“I love them both so much, but I will have to say this one. The neckline on the first one had to be adjusted because I was so stunned by how low it was, I don’t think I can forgive Wren for that.” I turn to the audience, searching for Wren amongst the painted faces and stained hairpieces. Wren’s clear skin and warm expression catch my eye and I smile widely at her. The audience awws and cheers and Caesar nods his head.

“I do agree that both are stunning, especially on you, but now I must know what the original neckline was on the teal dress! How teasing you are, giving us that little piece of information to leave us begging for more!”

“My apologies, Caesar. Maybe one day Wren can show you herself?” I turn to face her again. “Consider it a favour.”

“One which I will hold her to, don’t you worry.” Caesar grins, taking my hand once more and hinting at me to stand. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause to the lovely Lia!”

The room ignites in a roar of shouts and cries, shocking me once more as Caesar raises my arm up high. He nods towards me, his other arm extended out towards the stage exit and I smile at him once more, curtsying slightly before taking off to the relative safety of backstage. Phiona meets me as I turn a corner, arms wide open for a hug.

“Well done, Lia. You handle it magnificently. Now, let's go to the waiting room to watch Rhys.”

The waiting room is not far from where we are, in fact it looks to be purposefully set up for a tribute to wait in and watch their district partner’s interview before the pair return to their rooms. Phiona ushers me to the two-seater in the centre of the room angled towards a widescreen showing Rhys already on stage, shaking Caesar’s hand firmly.

“How great it is to see you, Rhys. Tell me, are you well? Training hasn’t been too strenuous for you I imagine.”

“I’m good, Caesar. Yourself?”

“Oh!” Caesar jumps, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “I’m good too, no one has asked me that in a while so thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Rhys relaxes into the chair a little, giving Caesar a brief toothy grin before returning to his stoic norm. “Training was new for me, as Lia said, but I had some experience with some of the weapons so adjusting wasn’t too difficult.”

“What kind of experience?”

“I worked with my dad a lot; he is a fisherman so I would help with bringing in the catches, gutting the fish, stuff like that.”

“Sounds messy to me.” Caesar frowns, shaking his head adamantly. “But speaking of back home, Lia mentioned a little detail about you that I am sure many of us want to hear. Isn’t that right everyone, we all heard it.” The crowd chimes in agreement and Rhys cocks his head to the side, shaking it slightly.

“Lia is a bit angry with me because I didn’t confess earlier. I didn’t want to make the same mistake Beck did though. I thought that it would be best to wait, to be clear of the reaping before I told her.”

“It isn’t Lia, is it?”

“No! No, Lia knows who the girl is that’s why she’s upset with me, but it isn’t Lia. She’s like a little sister to me.”

“She said the same about you too.”

“I hope it wasn’t the exact same, Caesar, seeing as I am not a young girl.”

The crowd bursts into laughter, and I admit I to let out a peal of laughter as his grin spreads across his face. Such poor humour, I’m sure the boys back home enjoy it though.

“Of course not!” Caesar chuckles, soberly up quickly which causes the audience to do so. “Is there anything you want to say to her now? To your girl back home?”  
Rhys pauses for a moment, pondering as he lets a little frown grace his lips. “I won’t, for her sake. I don’t want her to feel like she owes me, should I die I want her to move on and be happy. She deserves to be happy.”

The crowd coos, some woman bursting into tears as Caesar places a hand on Rhys’ shoulder in comfort. “That’s a very noble thing to do, Rhys. May I ask one last thing before we must send you away?”

Rhys nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Lia mentioned that she wants you to win, that you deserve to go home. What are your thoughts on that?”

“Lia’s a very selfless person, everyone back home knows that. I don’t want to win if it means she doesn’t. We’re going to stick together and look after each other for as long as we can. We promised our friends and families. I wouldn’t be the same if Lia were to die and I were to live, but I am sure she would say the same thing if she were to answer this question.”

“I’m certain you’re right.” Caesar nods, picking up Rhys hand in his and the pair stand tall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a hand to Rhys!”

It doesn’t take long for Phiona to retrieve him and for us to all head back to the elevators to get back to our floor. When we arrive it’s silent, the lights only just flicking on as we step out of the elevator.

“Where’s Finnick?”

“He is meeting with sponsors tonight, trying to organise a final count so that we can send you resources as soon as possible. He should be back before you two need to go to sleep.” Phiona places a hand on the small of my back, herding me towards my room. “Let’s get you out of this dress and into the shower. Take as long as you wish.”

All the pieces of jewellery are left at the foot of the bed beside the dress which Phiona lays out flat, not wanting to create wrinkles in the fabric. I stay in the shower a lot longer than I thought I would. Even with Phiona’s insistence that I take my time, I spend long spans on time just standing with my back to the showerhead, letting the hot water hit my back and numb my skin, tinting it pink. The water breaks through the stiffness in my hair within the first minute, but I shampoo twice over at an excruciatingly slow pace. It’s like my body has a mind of its own; my arms feel like lead dragging down my shoulders by the time I step out of the steamed-up shower room. I take just as long removing the makeup and sweat off my face, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror with lungs full of foreboding dread. Once the colours and shades of the Capitol have been wiped clean of my face, I can see the parts of me that I will never see after tonight. This is the last time I will see myself ever again. The last time I will see the hair that mimics my mother’s, her nose and lips echoed in mine. The cheekbones present in my father’s face, alongside his eyes and the slightly square shape of his jaw passed down to me. Tears prick behind my eyes, No, I don’t want to cry. Tilting my head back I will them to remain at bay and quickly dress in a pair of satin pyjamas, piling my hair on the top of my head and fleeing the bathroom.

Rhys shuffles in once I step past the threshold, closing the door behind him softly. Phiona glances up at me and I pad towards her carefully. “Can you dry my hair for me?” She nods without question, sensing my mood.

She herds me to sit in the lounge while she rushes off to grab some things. Upon returning, I see a towel and a brush in her hands and I ease back against her legs once she sits down on the couch, sitting on the floor in front of the tv that we were all huddled around the previous day. Now, with the emptiness in the room, the hype from the last twenty-four hours has died down and the knowledge of what is to come tomorrow hits full force.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phiona whispers, pressing sections of hair between the towel. I bite my lip, fighting the lump in my throat to speak up.

“I’m scared,” I mumble, feeling her still. “I’m scared for what will happen tomorrow; I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to kill anyone either.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She wraps her arms around me in a bear hug, letting the towel drop onto my shoulders as she leans her head into the crook of my neck. “You’ll be okay. Just focus on one thing at a time, okay? Don’t think about everything you have to do, that’s not important. When you stand on the podium, find Rhys. Then look at who is around you, were your allies are and where your enemies are. Then take in the environment, the resources in the cornucopia, the weather. Once you have an understanding of the arena, see what you can grab with the least amount of issues as possible and find a direction to go off in. Don’t stay around the cornucopia for longer than you need to, especially if you don’t have a weapon in hand. Don’t overthink anything, okay?”

She pulls away, picking up the towel and continuing to dry my hair which has since been dripping all down my bed-shirt. “You’re a brave, smart girl, Lia. You just need to remember to keep yourself busy. If there’s little to do, plan for the following day, count who is left and where they could be, look out for clean sources of water or food. Don’t let yourself fall into a state of unknowingness.”

Nodding, I let her finish drying my hair in silence, closing my eyes as she begins to comb through the locks. Rhys returns somewhere during this time, taking a seat in the armchair and pouring himself a glass of water from the jug on the bar cart. It’s a comfortable silence, though our impending fate cuts off any chance at making humorous remarks. We try to stay awake, eating a light dinner and returning to the lounge as to wait for Finnick, but as night creeps closer and the gaudy night lights of the Capitol flick awake, my resolve to keep my eyes open dissipates. It’s ten when my half-asleep form is picked up off the floor and carried to my room where I am tucked into bed and encouraged to go to sleep.

“Stay with me until I fall asleep,” I mumble with great difficulty, rolling onto my side to face where I assume Rhys is standing. “Tell me your favourite things about home. What you will miss the most.”

There’s a long pause, my only gage that he’s still in the room being the weight that settles by my knees on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on my side above the covers, heat radiating through the plush cotton. “Do you remember the morning we went to the beach and watched the sunrise from the dunes?” I shake my head. “You were around eleven, I think. It was your idea to sneak out and meet by the boardwalk near your house. We sat in the sand as the sun began to rise up out of the ocean. The colours were so bright; shades of pastel pink and wisps of orange in the morning sky. There were still some stars visible above us, but I wasn’t looking at them. You had this awestruck look on your face like you’d never seen a sunrise before. Your eyes were gleaming, and your mouth was wide open - I kept telling you you’d eat sand flies but you just ignored me. I had to pull you out of your trance to get you back home before your parents woke up.”

I smile softly, feeling the last streams of consciousness begin to settle down for the night. “I wish I could remember that. It sounds beautiful.”  
As the blanket of sleep falls over me, I catch the last words before being carried off into a slumber.

"You were and still are."

Phiona walks me in the morning, lulling me to consciousness with a fond smile and a tender brush of her fingertips across my cheek.

“We need to get you ready.”

Groggily, I sit up and accept the water glass Phiona offers me graciously. She tells me of how they let us sleep in, knowing we wouldn’t be able to stomach much, and then Phiona hands me a pile of clothes to get changed into. “These aren’t the ones you’ll wear in the arena, those you will get changed into when you’re down in the prep room with Wren. These are just for the journey there.”

I get dressed quickly after she leaves the room, slipping on the plain black short sleeve top and the baggy pants with litter fuss. At the elevators, I meet Rhys and Finnick who quickly halt their hushed conversation once I arrive. Finnick gives me a soft smile, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You ready?”

“I ready as I’ll ever be.”

Finnick nods, eyes lingering on me for a moment before he glances up at Phiona. “You coming with us?”

“No. I’ll stay here.” I turn to give her one last, strong hug. Taking in all I can of her – her warmth, her perfume, her white-blonde hair that has dimmed its glow a little since last night. She glides over to Rhys and wraps him in the same intense hold. “I’ve told you both my final advice already, so I won’t repeat it. Just remember that I love you both very much.”

Rhys kisses her forehead, smiling at her as she pulls away. “We love you too, thank you for everything you’ve done for us.” He glances over to Finnick, nodding at him. “Both of you. I don’t know how we could ever repay you.”

“Look after each other. We don’t ask for anything else.” Finnick replies, sharing a meaningful look with Rhys before turning to me. “We will send through gifts as often as we can but note that sometimes there are bans on gifts during specific events or times.”

“We trust you will. And we will do our best to keep the sponsor numbers high.” I nod, giving him a brief smile before the elevator doors open and Phiona herds us in, stepping away from the opening. She gives us a wave as the doors close, her diamond eyes releasing tears down her cheeks.

The trip is short, Peacekeepers meeting us on the ground floor to lead us to the airships which will take us to the arena. Finnick grabs onto our arms as we approach the exit to the courtyard where the ships are docked in.

“Don’t get caught up in the bloodbath. Find something to take nearby, take it and run. Don’t stick around for anything, understood?” We nod, staring him in the eyes as he flicks between us. “Lia, if you team up with Annie you have to remember that she isn’t your responsibility, okay? If anything happens, get yourself out of there. She’s twelve, she isn’t going to last long even if she’s resourceful.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He squeezes my forearm and lets his arms drop to his sides. “I’ll do as much as I can, just keep yourself alive.”

Peacekeepers approach and we give Finnick one last nod, walking towards them to be taken to the ships. Females in one ship, males in the other, and as I am instructed to take a seat my arm is picked up and a needle is stuck into it.

“This is your tracker. The pain will be over shortly.”

The pain lingers for a while, ebbing away once the engines start and all twelve of us are strapped in and our trackers are all activated in our arms. Annie is strapped into the seat near the front of the craft on the other side, her ginger hair pulled into two low ponytails tied off behind her ears. With no windows to look out of, the ship looks as cramped as it feels and I lock my sights on my hands, following the curves and rips in my cuticles to keep the uneasiness simmering in my chest down. The flight is short, landing us in a hanger where we are each led off the ship and down winding corridors by a Peacekeeper who deposits me outside a door. Putting in a code on the door, it beeps and slides open to reveal Wren standing with her arms folded in front of her, one hand gripping her bicep desperately. I shuffle inside and the door slides shut behind me, only then does Wren loosen her arms and stalk forwards, taking me in her arms and resting her chin on top of my head.

“We need to get you dressed. I’ve looked at what they’ve provided and it’s nothing special.” She’s right; a pair of black pants with multiple pockets and a grey jacket made of light, thin sleek material are the only items to put on. The pants fit tighter than those I came in but the pockets make it look bulky, as for the jacket it gives very little heat improvement.

“What’s the point of this?” I pull at the cuff, frowning down at it.

“It’s a raincoat, but it won't help all that much. There’s little to no insulation so don’t rely on it to keep anything in or out.” Wren folds back the collar, making sure to pull my hair into a controlled ponytail to lift it off my back. “We wanted to give you a token to take with you, but there wasn’t really anything that we knew you had an attachment to that was appropriate to give you.”

“That’s okay, I don’t need a token. Rhys has one from home, so as long as we stuck together, we can share that.”

Wren smile, taking my hand as the intercom unit on the wall buzzes to life. “Sixty seconds.”

I slip my hand out of Wren’s, inhaling deeply while stepping towards the tube in the corner of the room. It takes thirty seconds for me to make the short distance, turning to face Wren who stands rigid in the centre of the room, head held high but her bottom lip wobbling uncontrollably. She bites down on it, breaking the skin and wincing, but she remains steadfast. I smile at her, meeting her emerald eyes through the smudged glass of the tube doors as I am closed in, waiting to be lifted into the arena. A handful of drawn-out seconds pass by until the platform thumps, rising slowly up into a grey chute, a clear pale blue sky approaching which brings with it a slightly brisk breeze. Sunlight hits my face once I near the opening and blinds me for a few seconds before I can see through it to the surrounding rocky terrain.


	8. The Games - Part One

The ground is a stony, uneven lakebed by the looks of it, the cornucopia sitting in the centre of it with its mouth open towards a dam in the distance. Surrounding the cornucopia, bags and bottles are scattered on the ground along with a few simple weapons – a set of knives, a spear or two, a bow and arrow – but the bulk of the equipment, food and weapons are in or at the mouth of the cornucopia.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice booms, presumably the Head Gamemaker, “Welcome to the 70th Hunger Games.”

The countdown begins, sixty seconds ticking down all too quickly. Where’s Rhys? Glancing across the circle of tributes, I see his familiar head of hair at my ten o’clock, standing between Madeline from Eleven and the boy from Six. Next, I find Annie between Farrah and the boy from Twelve. Eyes darting to the two beside me, I find Lachlan on my left and the girl from Three on my right, but on the other side of her is Holland and though he hasn’t seen me yet I wouldn’t put it past the other Careers to have spotted me and started scheming. I shake my head, scanning the ground around me. Twenty metres away is a small crate with a loaf of bread resting on top, ten meters further there’s a backpack directly ahead of Three. Run for the bread, then bank right to the bag as to not draw suspicion from Holland. He’ll head straight for the cornucopia.

I spare the countdown a second. 17. Twisting to look behind me; I note the lakebed starts elevating fifty meters away, a quick scope of our positions shows that’s true for everyone. Beyond that, there’s a clear expanse of land, dotted with a few trees and hills but otherwise exposed until the treeline over half a kilometre away. Behind Rhys, a rich forest expands as near as a couple of hundred meters from the edge of the lake – this forest isn’t in the same direction as the dam which I am almost certain tributes will flock to by the end of the day, so that would be our best bet for a relatively clean getaway.

A low siren rolls through the clearing and I jump off the platform, sprinting for the bread while making quick glances over my shoulder to Holland and the backpack nearing closer and closer. Three hasn’t moved from her platform which means there’s no buffer between Holland and I – if he sees me, he can run straight for me.

I feel someone barge into my side, pushing me down to the rocky bed and pressing down on me. My body freezes and I think back to when Midas was staring at me vulgarly two weeks ago after the tribute parade. I wriggle around, trying to buck whoever it is off my back so I can get into a less compromising position. “Stay down.” Lachlan hisses, pushing my head down into the dusty rock bed. My forehead grates against the stone, flaring up uncomfortably, and I turn my head to breath.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your ass.” I see him looking up, eyes scanning the playing field. “When I say, get up and take the bread with you, get out of the lakebed and go around to Rhys the long way – don’t cut through the field or they’ll see you and kill you. He got the pack that was near him so don’t bother picking anything else up. Just run, got it?”

The ice in my veins thaws, allowing me to nod and process the plan. He shuffles off me, still staying low to the ground with a hand on my back. As soon as he moves his hand I push off the ground, sidestepping to snatch the loaf of bread before sparing him a look and running out passed the platforms to the edge of the lakebed, crawling up it and banking right to head to the forest where Rhys is waiting with a backpack slung over his back crouched between the first line of trees. I rush beside him, making quick work of the zip to slip the bread into the pack, before tapping his shoulder. He pivots and we rush into the forest, keeping up a jogging pace as we survey the areas we weave through. In the forest, the trees are surprisingly sturdy and tall, knobbly too which provides more than enough footholds and handholds to climb up. The branches begin to get leafy and provide good coverage about twenty meters up and while most of the trees have ample climbing holds, they don’t all have wide branches to rest in – at least not wide enough to fit Rhys on, me perhaps but we will find that out later.

We continue this pace for a while, hearing the cannons signifying the end of the bloodbath – ten tributes dead – and carrying on for another half hour at least until we reach an incline, boulders mingling between the trees and providing more coverage and difficultly to trek. “Let’s rest here for a bit,” I pant, wiping the forming sweat from my brow. Rhys nods, a little breathless, and slings the backpack off and dumps it on the ground between us. In it is a length of rope maybe a few meters long, a water bottle and a brown sheet of material. Inspecting this material for a few moments, I test the fabric between my fingertips and compare it to the jacket cuff. “This might be a heat-insulating blanket, seeing as our jackets won’t do much.”

“You can use it later then; you’ll need it more.” Rhys pulls out the water bottle, brings it up to his ear and shakes it, before uncapping it and holding it out to me. “Drink up.”  
I take a sip, holding it back to him but he levels me with a look I know not to challenge. I take another sip, holding it close to me. “You reckon the only water source is the dam?”

“There has to be more, otherwise this will all be over in a few days.” He accepts the bottle this time when I give it back, taking a quick swig before capping it and returning it to the bag. “Maybe behind where you were, that’s a pretty open space. I don’t think many would risk going into that exposed part of the area if there wasn’t a reward for it.”

“We should start veering away from the dam, the Careers will head there first to catch people out and then come this way. Do you have any weapons on you?” Rhys zips the bag back up and hoists it onto his back, a grin stretching across his face.

“Just these-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” I deadpan, jabbing his lightly in the ribs. He yelps, but the grin remains, and we begin to trek along the boulders and through the trees, weary of our unknown proximity to the perimeter barrier. There are several times in which one of us stops the other, collecting a rock or a broken branch from the forest floor to hurdle to our right having thought we saw a shimmer out of the corners of our eyes. There are a few times we stop and hear noises, whether they are from an animal or a tribute we don’t know, and we don’t want to test our luck to find out seeing as we are still weapon-less despite Rhys’ previous joke. The sun’s far past its peak in the sky, now drifting towards the horizon over the dam – a few hours until sundown by my estimate.

We stop near the edge of the forest, still far enough within the tree line that we have shelter but near enough that we can see an exit should we need it. After silently analysing the area, searching for tributes to no avail, Rhys drops the bag down against a tree, rolling his shoulders back and scoping the surrounding area for signs of food. “You haven’t noticed any bushes or animals, have you?”

“I likely would’ve told you if I had.”

“Likely? There’s a possibility you wouldn’t have?”

I roll my eyes, folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sure you and your guns wouldn’t have needed me to tell you if I saw a food source, I have faith that your eyes work just fine.” I crouch down to unzip the bag, ripping off a piece of bread to hand him. “And since when did you get Zyron’s dry humour? Don’t tell me you actually think he’s funny.”

“His jokes aren’t funny, but you can’t deny that he is funny. You remember him catching that yellowtail and screaming when it started flopping around in his hands.”

I clamp a hand over my mouth, the strong urge to start laughing arising with the fond memory. After struggling to bite my tongue for a few minutes, a lower my hand, whispering an apology to Zyron with a sheepish expression. Rhys scoffs, handing me the water bottle he’d pulled out while I was containing my emotions. “I doubt he will care that we’re teasing him.”

“It’s still not the right thing to do,” I shove his shoulder and he chuckles, sobering up after a few minutes. “What are we going to do about the food? We’ll finish the bread by tonight, the water too.”

“There must be a ban on sponsor gifts, otherwise we would’ve been given something by now.”

“It might not be that, sponsor gifts need to be managed well – it could be that we are near something and only need to have a better look around to find it. The first gift we would be getting in our situation would be a weapon – a knife or something so that we at least have that to defend ourselves with.”

“Well, do you want to have a look around now or wait until tomorrow morning?” Rhys tries to keep up his energy, eyes constantly darting from me to the surrounding trees and near distance for any signs of company. Just beyond his wall though, throw the cracks starting to split the wall apart, I can see how scared he is and how tired he is. He would never admit to either, but the jokey mood and occasional jerk of his head are clear indications of both for me. Rhys always tries to establish some normalcy through conversation to distract himself from his fear, to side-track himself so that he forgets about it. The sudden movements are a given with our circumstances, but they aren’t sharp; his head moves slower than one would want to move, his lethargy weighing him down. I shake my head.

“We’ll do it tomorrow, for now, we should rest up – I can be on watch first, your eyesight is better at night anyway.”

Rhys shuffles around, back resting against the tree with the bag next to him. “I’m only agreeing because I know you won’t be able to stay awake at night. Keep talking, I don’t want to fall asleep just yet.”

“Well, I think you’ll be happy to find out Lachlan may be siding with us.”

“How do you know?”

“He knocked me to the ground to hide me from Holland when we got off the platforms.”

“So that’s why it looks like your forehead has a rash on it.”

I frown, cheeks flaring red as I lift my hand to tap at my forehead. Skin is peeling, and the contact stings, but there hasn’t been any blood, so I didn’t think it was that serious. I kick the part of Rhys’ leg I can reach, ducking my head to hide my face with my hand hovering over my forehead.

“It’s not that bad.” He chuckles, head tilted towards me and his half-open eyes gazing down at me. “That’s good about Lachlan though, we should try to find him tomorrow, so we have a better chance of getting food. We could see what’s left in the cornucopia too – maybe the careers left stuff behind.”

“Maybe, we can try to get a look before we leave the trees tomorrow. Any bread would be useless as it would’ve gotten mouldy and stale. There might be a spear or a sword hiding though.”

“I like the sound of that,” Rhys mutters, eyes closed once more. I notice his breathing begin to slow down, levelling out until he’s snoring lightly. I smile at him, taking the time to let the sight of his calm, sleeping form and slight double chin from his head drooping down onto his chest set into my memory. I collect the half a loaf of bread from my lap and rip it in half, saving the bigger bit for him later and eating the other bit in little bites. I take a few sips of water to wash it down before hunkering down, hoping my black jacket isn’t clearly visible in this late afternoon light.

Sitting on watch in the middle of a forest with people potentially ready to kill you doesn’t feel right for obvious reasons, and the regular rustle of a breeze through the leaves or a bird’s twittering are enough to keep my whole body tense and anxious for the hours while Rhys sleeps. As the night finally draws in, stars littering the inky blue sky, the anthem starts and stirs Rhys from his slumber. Both from Three, the boy from Five, the girl from Six, the boy from Seven, the boy from Nine, the girl from Ten, Madeline and the boy from Eleven and the boy from Twelve are shown and I sigh in relief. Annie is okay for now.

“Looks like we might be able to go up against the careers with even numbers.” Rhys groans as he sits up, spine clicking as he stretches. I hand the bread and water to him and he finishes them in a few seconds. “My turn to watch, but I think you should sleep up in the tree. That way if anything comes out at night, you’ll be up high and you should be safe.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Won’t I just fall out and land on top of you?”

“That’s what the rope is for, dummy. Climb up with the rope and the blanket, tie yourself up against the tree trunk and that way you’ll be secure and warm with the blanket around you.”

For the second time in a few hours, I blush, embarrassed by my lack of brainpower. Rhys chuckles, picking up the backpack and handing it over. “I’ll give you a boost up, we’ll need to be quick though – there’s not going to be much light to work with the longer we wait.”

His boost comes in the form of me standing on his shoulders to reach a wide branch twelve feet in the air, a branch I must heave myself up onto in order to straddle. Rhys glances up, tilting his head to the side. “I can still see you, move up higher and make sure your legs lie across a branch so you’re more hidden.”

“Alright, just give me a minute to work out how I’m going to do this practically blind.” I huff, patting around for some leverage. The branches and leaves do a great job of diminishing any moonlight which I suppose means if anyone were to start a campfire or something the light wouldn’t be able to uncover me up in a tree. After ten minutes of slowly manoeuvring myself higher up in the tree, only by a few branches, I manage to find a wide, comfortable enough branch to sleep on for the night. I shift the bag around so it’s on backwards, open it up and retrieve the rope. Feeling around the tree is little help so I turn my head down and whisper to Rhys. “How thick is the tree truck?”

“I can wrap my arms around it, but my fingertips only just touch.”

“Okay.” I loop the rope around my waist once, not wanting to drop it should this go poorly, and swing a length of the rope around as firmly as possible so it wraps around and hits me in the back, drawing out a hiss. I grab it before it drops, then slowly twist around so my legs are along the tree branch and my back in against the trunk. “Okay, I’m tieing it now. If you hear a thud in the night, then you’ll know I didn’t do it right.”

“With how long you spent at the knot-tying station with Annie, I’m certain you can tie it in the dark.” Rhys chuckles, a hint of anxiousness riding in his tone. “Just focus on you and make sure you’re good.”

I tie the rope as efficiently as I can, tucking the blanket between myself and the rope before tightening it and securing me to the tree. Now, with the backpack and blanket also secure, I let out a sigh and relay my status down to Rhys. “If you wake up in the morning and forgot I’m up here I’m never going to forgive you.”

“Go to sleep Lia, you’ll find out in the morning.”

It takes about an hour to adjust to sleeping up a tree, for my mind to finally turn off for the night, but even then, as the first rays of daylight stream through the leaves I’m groggy and disorientated. It takes a few seconds for my hearing to catch something which causes my heart to drop into my gut. The birds aren’t chirping, but that’s not the worst of it. Not by a long shot.

“Well, well, look who we have here.” A goading voice fills the silence, followed by the snap of a bowstring. I flinch. A low grunt sounds from below and I bite my lip, fighting to control my shallow, frightened breathing. “If it isn’t District Four’s humble prince. Where’s the princess, hmm?”

Rhys groans, his heavy breathing audible from up here. I hesitate to glance down to watch, knowing it’ll be a trap. Please, don’t say anything stupid. Don’t be a hero.

“I don’t know.”

Farrah fires another arrow, this time drawing out a cry of pain from Rhys. I can’t stop myself from looking this time; all four of them are circling him. Farrah with a third arrow already notched ready to fly, stands directly opposite Rhys staring intently at him. Davinia stands with her arms crossed in front of her, a wicked sneer on her face as she stands over Rhys. Holland is a little further back, leaning casually against his spear with a bored look on his face. Midas, the one seemingly asking the questions, has his head cocked to the side and a sword resting across his shoulders. Rhys, at least what I can see of him, has an arrow in the thigh and another in his shoulder which potentially is pinning him to the tree. From this distance, I can see the shakes in his hands that rest on his thighs, his left one clenched beside the arrow.

“We’ll try this again,” he smirks. “Where is Lia?”

“I said I don’t know.”

Davinia lurches forwards, hand delving into Rhys’ hair and pulling his head back. For a brief moment our eyes meet, and I can see the pain, the fear and the stubbornness in his eyes before he shifts his gaze to Midas.

“She ran into the clearing behind her when the siren went off, probably figured no one would go that way because of how open and exposed it was. I was on the opposite side of the circle. I couldn’t follow her. My best guess is that she’ll be heading to the dam this morning to get water.”

The quartet ponder this, Davinia’s grip on his hair loosening but Farrah’s arms never drop. “It sounds probable, what do you think?” Davinia asks Midas who strolls forward with languid paces. He swings his sword down, piercing it into the ground and squats down in front of Rhys.

“Do you know what I’m going to do when I find your whore of a friend?” Rhys riles up at that, seething at him, but Midas continues. “I’m going to pin her down, do all the things I was thinking of after the parade, and then, once Holland’s had his fun, I’m going to gut her alive like the slimy fish she is. How does that sound?”

Rhys starts kicking around, swearing at him and spitting in his face. “She’s going to rip you apart limb from limb, just you wait you fucking bastard.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.”

Midas stands, pulling the sword out as he steps back. Farrah frowns, lowering her bow a little. “Are we just going to leave him here?”

“Of course not.”

It happens just like that. One second Midas is standing facing Farrah and Holland, posture nonchalant and arm down by his side. The neck the sword is slicing through Rhys’ neck. There’s a thud of the blade hitting the tree trunk, lodging itself in the wood, before there’s a second thud. The thud of Rhys’ head falling off his shoulders and rolling to the forest floor, eyes open staring up at me and mouth slightly agape. Blood starts to pool beneath the head and drench the front of his shirt. Deep red, near black blood.

“Let’s go find the bitch.”

They leave my sight, murmuring as they go. The blood stains the front of Rhys’ shirt completely, the once dark green now brown-black. The colour from his face has drained. I feel my fingers twitch, fiddling with the knot keeping me tied to the tree and releasing it. The back falls down to the other side of the tree, the limp rope still in my hands. Slowly the blanket slips down my body, sliding down and following the bag. My legs jerk over to the side, towards the branch one below where I’m sitting, then the next one where I was lifted to the previous night. My body straddles the branch, looping the rope around it and wrapping the ends over my wrists in a firm hold. My body lurches off the branch, arms bent for the initial tug but straightening, hands losing their grip as my body weight drags me to the ground.

I land with a thud, face-up, and the wind gets knocked out of me. With a groan, I look over to see Rhys’ head next to me, his blood pooling close to where strands of my hair have splayed out. I jolt up, crawling to his body pinned to the tree. Reaching for his matted shirt collar, I peel the sticky, wet material back to see the necklace covered in blood, gold metal coated in a dark red. I pick it up, blood staining my trembling hands, and put it in my jacket pocket. My body then crawls over to the backpack and blanket a few meters away and I roll up the blanket, shoving it inside the bag and tugging the hanging rope nearby down from the tree, doing the same with that. Throwing it onto my back, I shift my legs from underneath me to stand and with stuttering, near robotic movements, head off running away from the entrance to the woods.

As I run, I feel my mind catch up with what’s happening. With what’s just happened. I feel my breaths become manic, shallow gasps for breath, my eyesight blur and double as I stumble through the trees. I feel like chest burn, my stomach burns, my throat burns, and as I collapse to the ground, I vomit. I vomit until I have nothing left in my stomach and when it’s empty, I dry heave, tears falling down my face in rapid succession. I sob and heave and struggle to breathe until darkness fills my vision and I feel my head hit the ground.


	9. The Games - Part Two

My body jolts awake after some time. The blanket is lain on top of me, a jacket under my head, and from the corner of my eye, I see my backpack about half a metre from my head. Sitting up ignites aches and pains in my arms, ribs and back and I let out a groan in the process.

“Don’t sit up, you need to lie down.” A soft, small voice pipes up.

I jump, inhaling sharply, and my eyes dart around to see a flash of red hair. I feel my heartbeat calm down once Annie’s face clears up in my sight. In front of her is an array of things: a small water bottle, a bowl of food, the rope from my bag which she twists and turns between her fingers and a small sponsor gift box. She shuffles closer on her butt, bringing the water and bowl with her and holds them out to me.

“You need to eat something and to drink water. You must be very thirsty.”

With a shaking hand, I take the bottle, taking one big sip to quench the raw feeling in my throat. In the bowl are some bits of fruit – not a lot but enough for a snack. Slowly, I nibble at the pieces as she shuffles closer, now sitting on my right side with her palm rubbing up and down my back.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay.” My voice is rough, scratchy and low and I cough to clear the irritation. Annie taps at the bottle and I begrudgingly take another sip.

“I found you a few hours ago. We aren’t far from where you were last, I just moved you from where you were lying. I didn’t think you’d want to wake up near a pool of your own vomit.”

“Thank you.” I croak. Annie nods, tapping the bowl of fruit. I scan the pieces and pinch an apple slice between my clean fingers. A frown pulls down my lips.

“I cleaned them. I didn’t want you to see it.”

I nod, staring at the apple. “I’m going to see it anyway.”

“But I cleaned you up?”

“It’s on the necklace.” And ingrained in my brain.

Annie pats my back. “I’ll clean that later.”

“How?” I hate how monotonous I sound. My voice is flat, devoid of emotion and cracks on every other word. I pop the apple into my mouth, chewing it slowly. It tastes bland, powdery in a way, but it is edible. I pick up another piece.

“There’s a river a few hundred meters from us, near the border. I haven’t seen anyone else around here so we should be clear for a while longer.”

“Did you see the Careers?”

“I didn’t see them, but I heard them; I heard the cannon go off and a few minutes later they walked by, talking loudly about what they did. I saw the hovercraft fly by a little while later and it hung around for a while. I followed it and then followed your tracks to where you were passed out on the ground. I’m sorry about Rhys, Lia.”

“Thank you for looking after me.”

“It’s the least I could do after you helped me during training.” Annie lent over for the sponsor box and handed it to me. “This is for you. When I moved you here it landed, and it has your number on it.”

Just my number. Because it is just me now. All the conversations about strategic and our plan to be a sibling-type unit flash before my mind. Dread and guilt fill my stomach with lead – It is all my fault. If we didn’t push the sibling idea so hard, he would still be here.

My stomach turns and I twist my body around over to my left side and vomit over the bundled-up jacket where my head lay. Annie frets beside me, rubbing my back and moving my hair out of my face. It burns like hell, and tears build in my eyes as Annie apologises over and over again. After several agonising minutes, I have gathered myself, wiping my mouth with the cuff of my jacket.

“You shouldn’t apologise, Annie, you’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry for wasting your food and water.” I glance down and my nose wrinkles. “And your jacket.”

“The jacket is useless; I am better off without it.” Annie covers the bowl of fruit, putting it aside and pushes the gift towards me. I pick it up, breath heavy in my ears.

Unlatching the top, it splits open and a clean, black-handled knife is uncovered. A piece of paper sits on top, its message short and clear. One thing at a time. Picking up the handle, I let the box fall to the ground and inspect the blade; it is not too small and the blade is very sharp, the point fine and made of good quality steel. I close my eyes, ducking my head in and biting my lip.

“Did you not get a weapon yesterday?”

“No, only a loaf of bread.”

“I wonder why they didn’t send you more food, a loaf of bread isn’t much between two people.”

“Because I said that I’d rather have a weapon than food. There’ll be food around somewhere, as there is water, and a weapon can be used for many different things.” I twirl the knife around, looking at the hilt. The matte black makes the whole thing look smooth, and the blade is well balanced and weighted. “Rhys reckoned we should ask for more food though.”

“Tell me about him.” Annie whispers. I glance over and she’s looking at me with her legs pulled up to her chest, her head resting on her hands which are placed over her knees.

“He was really nice. I wish I had a brother like him.”

“He is,” I reply, biting my lip. “He was. He’s the kindest, most noble, most understanding person I know.”

“Did he have siblings?”

“No, just his parents and him. That’s how we became such close friends at a young age. We both were the only children in our families.” I continue to talk about him in a hushed tone, eyes trained on the terrain and forest around us. I tell her about our friend group. About his habits growing up. About how revered he was by the men his dad works with. About how boys looked up to him in the district. About how brave he was during the reaping. Once I am done its silent for a long time as she stews it over in her head.

“The necklace, who gave it to him?”

“The girl who loves him and who he loved.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

I sign, looking down and plucking the necklace from my pocket. It is tarnished in blood, flaking now that it is dried up, but the turquoise still manages to gleam in the sunlight, shifting like its captured seawater.

“I’m going to return it to her.”

Annie grabs the water bottle, collecting the necklace from my hand and rinsing it in the stream of water as she pours the rest of the bottle out, rubbing the chain and crown with her thumb to remove the blood. Using the front of her shirt to dry it off and rub off the rest of the blood, she turns back to me and unclips it.

“I can put it on you if you want. That way you don’t lose it.”

Silently I nod, tears welling in my eyes as the cold metal hits my collarbones. It feels like part of the necklace has died, the energy and warmth no longer the same. The importance of it has shifted, the people it signifies have changed. The weight feels like someone is putting me in a chokehold. Annie stands up and gathers our things, packing them into the bag.

“We should head to the river to fill up, maybe we will find some berries nearby.”

Right. The river. Water. Food. Things we need to survive. Things we need to do to get by. I pull my legs beneath me, hoisting myself up and shaking out the numbness that’s accumulated from my long period of sitting down. I sling the bag over my back before Annie can tighten the straps, pushing her lightly forward to lead the way. “Stay close, I don’t want you getting too far away without a weapon.”

Annie nods, reaching her arm out to hold mine and takes a step away from me, our arms at their maximum extension. “I’ll stay this far away at all times. I promise.” She lets go but sticks to her word, constantly looking back to make sure I’m close as I survey the area and keep my ears trained on any irregular noises. I keep the knife poised at the ready, arm bent ready to prepare to throw it should the need arise. While the backpack isn’t heavy, the tension in my shoulders becomes a more apparent part of my stature.  
We reach the river within half an hour; the terrain near the border shifts from the mulchy forest floor to a path of rocks and small shoots of greenery, no significant shrubs or moss formations visible from where we are but there should be some signs of those further along the river. The river flows between gullies formed by larger rocks, not like the boulders from yesterday but still sizable. Annie steps up to the river and beckons me over, pointing to the bag. I pad over hesitantly and crouch in front of her, turning to give her access but keeping it on my back, knife at the ready. “Be quick.”

Annie complies quietly, tapping my arm once she’s done and I glance along the river for a place to settle down. A little further down, fifty metres or so, I spot a cluster of larger rocks that form a half-ring and point Annie in that direction. We slink towards it, however, I stop her halfway there, slipping the bag off my back and creep forward alone with the knife raised ahead. I scan the treetops for any roosting tributes, the nearby trunks for any packs or otherwise obvious oddities, and the surrounding rocks for any signs of someone having visited recently. All come up clear, so I creep back over to Annie and loop my arm around the straps, throwing my head towards the boulders.

We set up a small camp of sorts, sharing the blanket between us and tucking the bag against the rocks to hide it from sight. Annie encourages me mutely to eat more fruit, purposely eating the apple pieces herself and smacking my hand away when I aim for one. We drink the water almost straight away and I volunteer to go top the bottle up whenever it gets low. Before the sun starts setting, we get another sponsor gift, again labelled for me, and inside is a soup which I urge Annie to drink most of.  
“It’s going to come back up before tomorrow morning if I have much of it, let’s not let it go to waste.”

Annie reluctantly takes the soup, using the water bottle cap to scoop up the vegetables floating around. Once the broth is bare of its extra bits, she drinks half of it and holds the small bowl towards me, pinning me with a hard look. I drink the last few mouthfuls without argument and set the bowl down out of the way, thanking her quietly. She nods, a small smile on her lips which drops once the anthem sounds across the arena. It drags on for a while before Rhys’ picture is shown across the sky and stays there until the final notes. He’s the only one.

“That means there’s still thirteen of us,” Annie whispers, a frown pulling down her thin brows. “That’s so many for the second day.”

I hum in agreement, glancing into the forest ahead of us. Shaking my head, I turn to Annie and tuck the blanket around her more. “I’ll take first watch. I’ll wake you later.”  
She nods, eyes drooping already and by the time her head nestles into the backpack she’s out. I smile briefly at her innocent face, the lack of lines and wrinkles on her pale skin and tilt my head back to hit the stone behind me. As the sky fades to black, stars dimmed and air more frigid than last night, my thoughts drift to the inevitable. With no tasks to complete, no imminent threat to deal with, and no conversation to keep me distracted, the territory my thoughts go to cannot be shifted.

His eyes are piercing. They are the thing I can’t forget. The vacancy in them as his head rolls onto the ground. The fact they weren’t half-lidded or even closed – they were wide open. Then the blood starts seeping out, pooling underneath is like a halo. All that blood. Around his head, on his shirt, probably all over his body. There was so much dark, sticky blood. The amount of pain he would’ve been in before Midas killed him would’ve been excruciating. An arrow in the thigh would leave you with blinding pain, every nerve would feel like its being set fire to and then on top of that there was an arrow in his shoulder which is just as bad. Yet he barely cried out, only upon the initial hit. The amount of restraint and control to do that, to stay quiet and to not give them an inch to vaunt over. I could never.

The reactions back home would’ve been horrendous. Mrs Halibut and Brooke would’ve been in hysterics, most of the mothers and girls would’ve been balling their eyes out. Would some have vomited like me? Would the mothers be consoling Mrs Halibut for her dead son or would they simply say it was part of the games? What would Mr Halibut’s reaction have been? He told me not to let Rhys do anything stupid, does he blame me for that? Does he curse me, condemn me to a death more violent than Rhys’, wish all the ill doings upon me for failing his son? Does Brooke? Do Zyron and Harrison? They must hate me for letting Rhys die like that. For letting Rhys die at all, he was the one meant to return home. He was going to be the district’s victor, the one to make Four proud. How could I let him die? How could I just sit up there and let Rhys suffer?

My gaze drops from the dark forms of trees to the sponsor gift box the soup came in. In the bottom of it is a strip of paper, forgotten amidst the call for food and rest. I reach out to pluck it up, my back clicking with such a stretch, and an ache begins to shoot through my arm from my elbow outwards. The sudden drop out of the tree through almost dislocating my arms is finally making itself known. It takes a while to find sufficient moonlight to read the note under, requiring me to shuffle out of our rocky barrier and into the exposed uneven expanse of ground by the river. The words, though short, take a while to set in.

Don’t blame yourself.

Don’t blame yourself is a piece of advice that doesn’t settle well. In all honesty, it's shit advice. I crush up the paper and throw it into the river, seething at it as it floats away. Don’t blame yourself. Then who should I blame? Midas? His mentor? Snow? The president before Snow who created these fucking games? Who’s to blame? Who do I scream and shout at because my friend, my brother, is dead? Who do I damn to hell because one of the only good things in my life is gone? Rhys had a future set out for him; he had Brooke who he was going to be with forever, he had a job working with his dad that he loved, his friends and peers admired him so much and now he’s gone. He’s dead. He’s never coming back.

My feet catch against something and I am sent to the rough ground, dinner making its reappearance as expected. I only notice the flurry of tears streaming down my face once the silence of the forest is the only thing I can hear, once the retching fades to a simple discomfort I can brush off. I crawl back to the boulders where Annie rests peacefully and sit up against them, wiping a shaky hand over my mouth. I don’t know how long I spend looking out into the black, never-ending mass ahead. Maybe I fall asleep. Maybe I blackout. The early morning light shining through the trees shakes me into cognitive thought and I lean over to gently shake Annie awake.

A little pout graces her face when she takes in the sunlight. “You said you’d wake me to be on watch.”

“I said I’d wake you later. Now it’s later.” I hold out the bottle of water to her, giving her what I hope is an assuring smile. “Drink up, nothing happened while you were asleep. Today we are going to go to the other side of the arena.”

“To the dam?” Annie’s eyebrows shoot up and I quickly shake my head.

“No, to the clearing by the cornucopia. When we were waiting for the countdown to end, I noticed there was a large space behind me that looked pretty exposed. I’m thinking that there might be grassland that way where animals might be grazing, it’s a long shot but I think it’s worth it if there’s food out there.”

“Won’t others be out that way?”

“There’s only one person I can think of that would risk going that way. Everyone else would’ve got to the areas where there is ample shelter and water, like the forest and the dam.”

Annie ponders this of a moment, eyes widening as she connects the dots. “You think the boy from 10 is out there?”

“Rhys and I made an alliance with Lachlan before the games and Lachlan and I have already talked here. I think it’s in our best interest to try to find him.”

“Won’t the careers be looking for him too?” Annie frowns. “If we run into them before we find Lachlan we’ll die.”

“It’s a risk we need to take – if the three of us are together that levels the playing field out, right? He’ll have a decent weapon too which is something we don’t have. If you don’t want to, we won’t, but I think that we should go.”

Annie pauses, head tilting to the side. “You’re asking me to make the decision.”

“You’re stuck with me for as long as we both live, whatever I do affects you. If you don’t want to go, we can think of another plan. There may be berry bushes or deer in these woods.”

“We’ll go find Lachlan.” Annie nods, lips pulled into a firm line. “That way you can sleep at night too.”

I let out a sharp breath of laughter, shaking my head at the ground. “Okay, finish drinking that, and we’ll head out once we’ve packed everything up.”

For a moment, it feels like we’re back in the training centre working together. Wordlessly we complete the steps to begin setting off, Annie refills the water bottle and I roll the blanket up and slot it deep into the backpack, sliding the water bottle in beside it once Annie returns to my side. We head off along the perimeter, keeping low once we are out in the open. The land is similar to the lakebed, with the occasional tufts of reeds shooting up from between the cracks in the earth. The dirt and stones are arid, no source or sigh of water having touched them in days, maybe even weeks. It takes roughly two hours for us to reach the clearing opening up behind where I started. In that time, we never saw a single tribute or even heard anything. Furthermore, when we stop to catch out breaths and scope the area there are no signs of anyone or anything having visited in the last few hours.

A cannon sounds across the arena sending me sky-high, eyes wide in shock as we duck and scan the arena for the incoming hovercraft. Slowly it glides above us towards the forest by the dam, halting in the sky and dropping the claw down into the trees. It’s too far away to see if the figure is a girl or a boy – we’ll find out later tonight anyway.  
I whip my head back around to our current position, narrowing my sights on the clusters of boulders and spiny trees dotting the land. I point Annie towards a small cluster, noting the dark grey lump peeking out behind the light grey of the stones. We move carefully, treading lightly as we approach the target and I extend my arm out to Annie, pulling her behind me as we get nearer.

The backpack is a clear indicator that a tribute is nearby, and I try my luck. “So that’s why you tackled me to the ground. You wanted the pack all to yourself.”

There’s a long pause and Annie digs her nails into the flesh of my palm, leaning out from behind me curiously. A shuffling fills the air, followed by a deep rumble of laughter.  
“Well, it wouldn’t be fair on me to let you two have a pack each, where’s the fun in that?” Lachlan presents himself, his jacket tied around his waist and a sword in hand. While he doesn’t look too worse for wear, he does look tired and the constant licking of his lips brings me to crouch down.

“Annie, grab the water bottle.”

Lachlan only notices her once I’ve shrunken down, his eyes scrutinising the little girl with an arch brow hinting at his thoughts. Annie pulls out the water bottle, taking slow steps towards Lachlan with the bottle extended out as far as she can make it. She may trust me, but its clear that Lachlan has never been someone that she thought she would be allying with, let alone helping out.

“When did you get your little helper?”

“Her name’s Annie.” I hiss, fire flaring up in my chest. “She saved my life and her and I have had an alliance longer than we have. She’s smart and inconspicuous.”

“I’m not bashing her.” Lachlan pacifies, hands up in surrender. “I’m just wondering if she was there when…”

“I found her after that, but I heard about what they did to him.” Annie snatches the bottle out of his hand, turning on her heels to return to my side. “She needs to sleep. She hasn’t slept in twenty hours or so.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not. You can’t eat without throwing it back up and you can’t sleep. You’re running on fumes right now. It’s the middle of the day and we have found him. You don’t need to stay awake to keep an eye on me so go to sleep.”  
Annie tows me towards where Lachlan’s camp is, pulling the bag off my back to lay across the ground. Her small bony hand reaches up onto my shoulder, pushing me down as she heaves the blanket out of the bag. She looks very much like a defensive little sister and it’s hard to bite back my growing smile. With a pointed look, she tells me to lie down and drapes the blanket over me.

“We’ll wake you up later.”

With a nod, I close my eyes and roll onto my side, back towards the others who sit down a few meters away. There’s an awkward silence, one I let myself smile at before Lachlan pipes up.

“How did it happen?”

“Midas and the others found Rhys and the bow and arrow girl fired at him. The must’ve tortured him or something, asking where she was. Midas cut his head off when he was done with Rhys and they left towards the dam. Lia saw everything.”

“You said she’s been vomiting; does she have food poisoning or something?”

“No. It’s anxiety. When she thinks too much about what happened her stomach turns. She hasn’t eaten anything today, and she hasn’t stomached anything since…maybe last night? Maybe the first night? I’m not too sure.”

“Do you two have any weapons?”

“Just her knife.”

Lachlan rummages around for something in his bag, unearthing it and giving it to Annie by the sounds of it. She lets out a small gasp and I have half the mind to sit up to see if she’s alright. “When did you get these?”

“The careers left pretty soon after the bloodbath, so I got a few things when it was clear. I haven’t been able to move very far with this all, so I kept cooped up.”

“Have you been able to see if there are any animals around? Any water sources?”

“I’ve heard some animals further that way, but I haven’t seen them or any water. If you guys hadn’t shown up just now, I would’ve had to move to find water.”

“Are you not getting sponsor gifts?”

“I am, food mostly. I don’t have any means to start a fire so I can’t go hunt. I finished the water bottle I got on the first day.”

Annie makes a noise of acknowledgement, dropping the conversation there. It stays quiet for a while, long enough for my brain to start slowing down, eyes feeling heavy and breath levelling out.


	10. The Games - Part Three

It doesn’t last long, of course, as the nightmare of Rhys' head, his eyes, his blood, rattles me awake gasping for breath.

Lachlan’s eyes are on me, sword raised slightly in alarm. Annie’s curled up in a ball next to me, dozing peacefully like the night before. With clammy, trembling hands, I place the blanket over her and slide out from the alcove in the rocks, breathing rapid and shallow as I fight to keep the images in my mind out of sight.

“Lia, look at me.”

White, soulless eyes and so much blood. So much dark red blood. Then Midas garbs me by the throat, pins me to the tree and sneers as his hands crush my windpipe, as my lungs burn and ache for breath.

“Christ, Lia! Breathe!”

A hand touched my shoulder, gripping it hard and my gaze shoots over to the culprit. Lachlan stares at me intently, eyes scanning my cheeks, eyes, chest and hands. His other hand comes to rest on my other shoulder, shifting my body to face him.

“Look at me. Take a deep breath in, okay.”

It’s hard and I stutter doing so, exhaling as soon as I have air in my lungs. He shakes my body and tells me again to inhale, clamping a hand over my mouth once I have. “Hold it.”

My eyes widen, fear sparking up and I scramble to pull his hand off my mouth and nose. Lachlan shakes his head, counting out loud before dropping his hand once he reaches five. “Breathe in.”

I don’t want to. I know he’s going to force me to hold it in once I have and I shake my head fervently.  
“Lia, this isn’t up for debate. Breathe in.”

Reluctant and lightheaded I do so. He’s a lot calmer this time around, talking me through the process and being a lot less forceful with his actions. By the fifth round, my sense returns and crushing weight in my chest lifts. I look over to Annie’s body, watching her ginger hair flutter in front of her face with every in and out breath.

“Annie didn’t mention you having nightmares.”

“You can’t have the nightmares if you don’t fall asleep,” I note, voice flat and empty like yesterday. “Anything happened while I was out?”

“Another cannon. Hovercraft collected the body on the south side of the forest.”

“The south side?”

“The damn is west. The forest expands from west to south. Right at the edge of the forest, as close to us as it can get. That’s where the bod was.”

“That’s near where we were,” I remark. “Maybe the careers are backtracking.”

“Maybe.” Lachlan shuffles away from me but keeps an eye on me as he settles back into his spot. “You need to eat. You got any food?”

“No.”

“Well don’t just sit there; do a dance, sing something, do whatever it is you do to get sponsors to gift you things.”

I chuckle. “Oh, so you mean get hysterical, vomit everywhere and pass out? Hold on, let me get prepared for this.”

Lachlan scoffs, shaking his head. “I’d hate to be Finnick – all you do is waste the food gifted to you. He’s probably put a ban on food for you himself.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” I sigh, tilting my head back against the rocks. “I feel sorry for the sponsors who have seen their money go to waste.”

“Were you kidding? During your interviews when you said all those things?”

“What things?” I frown, not sure what he’s inferring.

“That you don’t want to go home. That you wanted Rhys to go home. That you would have nothing to return to if you won.”

“I didn’t want to kill Rhys, or anyone for that matter, for the chance of going home where everyone will faff around me for a few months before they forget I exist. I didn’t want to return home without him by my side. The only people I would really care about would have lost as much as I have, more in a way, so nothing would be the same. Now that he’s gone, I don’t want to return home at all. I would much rather someone worthy go home instead.”

“What, like the Careers?”

“The Careers aren’t worthy,” I mumble, well aware that what I’m about to say could be the last nail in my coffin, but at this point, I don’t care. “The Careers train for half a dozen years or so to kill children. I mean someone like Annie, someone like you. The outer districts suffer more than the careers do, more than four does, and we all know that. If anyone deserves to go home, it’s someone from an outer district.”

Lachlan hums, looking at my collar. “What about the necklace? If you don’t go home, how will it get home?”

“I’m sure Finnick will be able to take it. He knows who to give it to.”

The chiming of a sponsor gift cuts out chat short, Lachlan leaping up to grab it. “Thought that would do the trick.”

“That what would do the trick?”

“Getting you to talk about Rhys, about the necklace. Annie mentioned that you got soup yesterday after you told her about what happened. Figured pulling on the Capitol’s heartstrings was worth another shot.”

“Well aren’t you a sympathetic, kind person.”

“Hey, it got you crackers which you should be able to stomach, okay? And this note is for you.”

Lachlan holds both out, but I take the note first, scanning the words quickly. Don’t be an idiot. I glare at Lachlan. “This could just as easily be for you.”

“Wrong; the gift is numbered for you, and I wasn’t the one talking about letting someone else go home so I wouldn’t have to. You do realise you’re the strongest female in this arena, right? I know you started doing extra training like I told you to do, Rhys mentioned as much when I talked to him in training.”

“That snitch.”

“Mmm, he thought it would be a way to bargain with me, to solidify the alliance. It worked, but I wouldn’t have needed it anyway.”

“Why not?” I ask, ripping open the packet of crackers and taking one.

“Because I can see you meant it when you said those things. I can see it in how you look out for Annie, how you didn’t try to kill me when I tackled you, or when you found me earlier. You have a knife - you could’ve snuck up and stabbed me and ended me right then and there, but you didn’t. You won’t put the games above your friends, your allies. You won’t turn your back on us.”

I chew slowly, his words getting under my skin. I could never; everyone who knows me knows I can never turn my back on someone, no matter the circumstances. It’s a great weakness of mine that I can do nothing about. The cracker dries up my mouth, feeling like sand the more I break it down. Dry, gritty, irritating sand. I grab another one.

The rest of the day is uneventful, and the anthem at sundown shows – Annie’s district partner and the girl from Twelve the two deaths today. Once the anthem fades out, I jerk my head to Rhys’ pack. “Sleep. I’ll stay up.”

“You should let Annie watch first. You didn’t sleep that much.”

“I’ll switch with her halfway through the night, that way one of us is semi-coherent throughout the night.” Lachlan looks like he wants to protest, in fact, he’s glaring daggers at me in the fading light, but I return the gaze with just as much felling. “You saw me earlier; you really think I’m going to stay asleep for very long? No one moves around after midnight if they don’t have to, I’ll find some shut-eye around then.”

“Fine, but if you do wake up like before wake me up too. Annie won’t be able to control you if you start going hysterical.”

I nod, rolling my eyes as I get comfortable. I don’t know when Annie went to sleep, but she’ll probably wake up soon anyway which means I’ll only be left alone with my thoughts for a short while. The pressure on my shoulders and in my chest isn’t as heavy as last night, perhaps telling another person has eased that tension a little, but maybe it’s just because I’m normalising the experience for the sake of continuing on. I must protect Annie, I must sure I can hold my own for Lachlan’s sake, so I compartmentalise it and leave it for another time. When I’m sleeping, that’s when my brain can access it without getting distracted. That’s when the panicking and anxiousness really take hold.  
The night passes by much like the afternoon; Annie wakes up and moves to sit next to me, draping the blanket over my shoulders and snuggling in beside me, nibbling at crackers for an hour or so until we finish the pack. Thankfully, the crackers stay down – whether that’s with the help from not sleeping, not going into hysterics, or the simple fact that the crackers are so dry they’re containing any rising reactions, absorbing all the stomach acid and removing the chance for my nervousness to bubble up. I fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night, Annie’s petite hands holding my own, rubbing warmth into them to fight the brisk chill in the air. I come to in the early morning with a sharp jolt, images vivid in my head, but under the wide, anticipating gaze of Lachlan I force myself to follow those damn exercises from yesterday. He smiles at me once I bring my head up to greet them.

“Sleep much?”

“A few hours, give or take. As much as I need for now. What’s the plan for today?”

“Well we have no water around here; I went out before dawn to look closer at the perimeter and there’s no rivers or lakes or anything, no animals either but that could just be that it was too early for them to be walking around. We have a few choices that can guarantee us water, but they also will guarantee us a run-in with someone or some people. We can go back to where you two were day two, back to the forest where there’s the river but it’s also the location of the first death yesterday. Or, and this might be the better option, we head to the dam in a wide arch to stay as covered as possible. We know there will be tributes near the dam, we know that there will be tributes in the brush surrounding the north side of the arena, what we don’t know is where anyone is. We could have a run-in with the careers, we could have a run-in with one or two other tributes, or we may get there without having seen anyone. That’s highly unlikely but one can dream, right?”

“Dream all you want I won’t stop you.”

“What do you two want to do? My vote is for the dam.”

“I want to go back to the river.” Annie pipes up, biting her lower lip and rubbing her arms. “There’s cover there, and we know the area better than the dam and path to get there. The people or person who caused the death in the forest yesterday won’t still be there, and I don’t think other tributes would want to go there if they don’t what there is there. We know it’s not a monster or something, we know we can get water we need there. Maybe we can even have a better look at food sources along the riverbank.”

I frown, looking down at my hands as my fingers rub over my nails and knuckles. I see the pros and cons of both plans, but ultimately there’s a course we need to take if we want to get to the end of these games sooner.

“If we keep avoiding each other, the Gamemakers will throw something into the works to speed up the killings. We should go to the dam. If everyone else is like us, then the feast in a few days’ time will be stocked with food and everyone will have to return to the cornucopia. We head to the dam, scope it out and return here either in the afternoon or tomorrow. That way we can be as close to the cornucopia as possible for when they announce the feast.”

Annie nods as I lift my eyes up to look at her, likely a little bashfully. Lachlan grins, hoisting himself up to gather his things. “Okay, we’ll head off in five minutes or so. Pack up, relieve yourselves, do whatever you need to do.”

We nod and gather everything up, standing guard for each other when we need to go. The plan is to move in a single file line, me heading the group while Lachlan takes the rear which keeps Annie in the middle. Before we set off, Annie switched my knife out for the set Lachlan gave her yesterday, “You have the better aim,” she admits. “I’ll hold onto this in case of emergencies.”

For the first few hours, it’s calm; we see no signs of anyone as we circle around to the northeast side of the arena. We pause for fifteen minutes or so at noon, thirsty and sweating with the midday sun glaring down onto us, but kick into action once we have shaken out or legs and regained our breath. A few hours later we settle into the woods east of the dam, the strong urge to shrug our packs off to rolls out our shoulders holding our attention. Annie opens her mouth to speak but a sharp snap of a branch silences her.

We whip our heads around to the sound, not seeing anything but the tension in my body scream at me to do something. There’s someone that can see us. We need to move. “Annie,” I whisper. “Nod if you see that tree over to your right with the low hanging branches.” She nods once. “When I say so, I want you to run to it and start climbing it, keep climbing until you’re at least fifteen feet up and surrounded in leaves, okay.” She nods again. I slowly stretch my fingers to wrap around the hilt of a knife in my belt, slipping it out and adjusting the grip. I meet Lachlan’s gaze who then shifts his sight to a tree ten meters away, nodding once with the slightest movement.

I pull my hand up to my ear, throwing the knife with as much power as possible and it sinks into the wood not three centimetres from where Farrah’s shoulder peeks out from behind the tree. Annie takes that as her cue to go and I grab hold of another knife, standing back-to-back with Lachlan as we scan the area. Farrah’s footsteps shuffling backwards are the only thing I can here but that could be her leading us away into a trap, so I throw another knife in her direction, nailing her in the calf to slow her down.

“Go to Annie, I’ve got this.” Lachlan hisses, eyes burning as he runs off towards the staggering Career. I hear some more noises now, distant running which can only be one thing, so I pivot and bolt to the tree where Annie is continuing her climb, thought her movements are a lot slower than mine as the branches are spaced quite far out for her size. I reach where she’s struggling to grab the higher branch and push her up, willing my legs to keep me locked in position as my hands hoist her up by her hips. We move up quick working like this and as I situated myself on a branch just above the first layers of foliage, a cannon booms across the woods. Jeering can be heard from below, Holland and Midas’ loud taunting carrying through the air and I take Annie’s trembling hand in mine, rubbing my thumb along her wrist in comfort. They get nearer, heavy stomps coming to a stop not far from where we are. The leaves make it hard to see where they could be, but I don’t need to see them to find out who’s cannon was sounded.

“Fucking Sea Bitch, I’m going to kill you!” Midas screams. “I’m going to fucking end you, you hear me?!”

“Where’s Lachlan?” Annie whimpers, tears falling down her pale cheeks. I squeeze her hand and continue to rub circles into her skin.

“I don’t know, he might be safe though.” I murmur, returning my gaze to the leaves and invisible figures below.

“You think that you can kill us? That you can kill me? Just wait until I get my hands on you, you two-faced, ignorant bitch!”

A snap of a branch, followed by rapid footfalls twenty meters to our right catches our attention, as does it catch the attention of a wild, seething Midas and the other Careers. They shoot off after the culprit, continuing to seethe and spit crude words about me in their wake. The woods quieten down after a few minutes, Annie’s uneven breaths and the breeze through the leaves the only lingering sounds.

“How could he say such mean things about you?” Annie sniffs. “How could he think those things of you?”

“People grow up differently than others, Annie. They think differently, act differently, believe in different things. He is very different from you and I, who knows what he could be thinking.” I pat her leg, looking up at her with a smile. “They’re heading off in the direction of the dam so we will stay here for a bit, maybe Lachlan will be able to turn back and meet us before nightfall.”

Annie nods solemnly, eyes shooting up to the hovercraft that flies over our heads above the canopy. We see the claw as it passes by our layer of leaves and on its return upwards. We see the body of Farrah, a knife sticking out of her neck and a stomach wound staining her shirt a dark red. So that’s why I was getting cursed out.

We stay in the tree for an hour, only when the afternoon sun is threatening to droop too low for us to see clearly do we make our way down the tree onto the uneven, root-ridden ground. I keep Annie in the tree for a bit, scanning the area to make sure it’s safe. Lifting her down from the tree is no easy task for my aching arms, but it is manageable, and we hunker down for the evening, wrapped in the blanket with no food or water to curb our growling stomachs.

“We’ll get water tomorrow and food too. We can go an evening without food, right?” I state, letting Annie tuck herself into my shoulder with droopy eyes. She nods silently and I rub her arm with a small smile pulling up my lips. My heart feels full with how much she trusts me - this must be what it’s like to have a younger sibling. It’s a nice feeling, a rewarding feeling, but the fullness in my heart is not only due to her faith in me. Knowing that in a second it could be ripped away from me, that Annie could die right before my eyes like Rhys, is enough to have my heart aching, yearning to hold her closer for just another night.


	11. The Games - Part Four

I don’t sleep well that night, in fact, I don’t think I catch a moment of rest at all. Being in a new, unfamiliar spot overnight keeps my brain running at full speed and my shoulders tense as can be. The wind builds up a little overnight, rustling the leaves relentlessly causing my attention to jump from one tree to another. In the distance, I can hear snoring, a deep, regular noise that is as unsettling as our exposed position at the foot of a tree. That isn’t Lachlan – he didn’t snore last night, and I highly doubt he’s just started snoring tonight – so it is either Holland, Midas or another tribute that I’ve forgotten the name of. We’ll have to wake up before them to move out, and we will have to be quick about it.

As the dawn breaks the ambience of the sleeping forest, birds beginning to wake and chirp and rays of light piercing through the leaves like golden spears. Nearby I hear voices murmuring, only starting to come to from their slumber. I shake Annie awake, keeping close to her ear as I whisper. “Annie, you need to wake up. You’ve got to go.”

“Hmm?” Annie blinks frantically, clearing her bleary sight as the news processes in her dormant mind. “We have to go?”

“You do. I want you to take the pack and return to where we stayed, where you wanted to go before we came here. It’s too dangerous to stay here, there are more people around here than we thought. You’re small and quick, you can get by without them seeing you if you go now – they’re staying to wake up so there’s no time to waste.”

“No, Lia I want to stay with you.”

“Annie, they’re targeting me, I don’t want you to be with me when they find me. You need to go; you’ll have access to water when you get there and I’m sure you’ll be able to get a sponsor gift to last you until the feast.”

Annie goes to complain again, eyes teary and wide, but I wrap my arms around her in a strong hug. “I don’t plan on dying today, this is just a safety precaution. I’ll meet you by the river by the end of the day, okay?”

I pull the blanket off her, bundling it up and sliding into the pack which I loop over her spindly arms and onto her back. She gets up on wobble legs but with a nod, she is ready to go. I point her in the direction where the snoring can be heard. “If you stay quiet, you’ll be able to go right past him. Stay low, don’t try to go too fast.”

Annie turns back to me, throwing her arms around me and kissing my cheek. “I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yes. You’ll see me before sunset.”

She nods again, this time heading off without looking back as the noises of the other party begin to become more coherent and their actions more organised. Taking a deep breath, I turn my body on the diagonal from where the party is, feeling for the two knives at my belt. Damnit. I set off in a crouched stance, creeping through the woods with a decent pace. At every fifth tree, I pause, gaging my position and distance from the party that still remains unknown to me. They could simply be another alliance between some tributes or, the more likely option, it’s the Careers. I am moving to another tree when it happens, the tell-tale crack of a branch resonating through the air. I glance down at my feet – it’s not me.

“What was that?” a female voice asks. Davinia.

I break into a run then and there, if I’m lucky whoever made that noise will be found but the sinking feeling in my gut tells me that I’m going to be the one pursued so I push my legs to go a little faster, begging my lungs to take in more air to power my muscles. I can hear them bustling through the trees after me, their shouting, unfortunately, getting closer and closer. Holland is the fastest out of the three from what I remember – he cleared the fitness training in the quickest time and was the first to pass the leaping exercise with the blocks. I have no doubt a simple sprint like this is just a warmup for him.

I manage to escape the trees and reach the hundred metre or so climb to the dam before the Careers catch up, getting maybe ten metres away from the treeline before Holland crashes through, a spear in hand and a menacing grin spread wide across his face.

“Well well, if it isn’t District four’s bitch ready to kneel. It’s about time you came to your senses.”

Midas and Davinia arrive not long after, sweat peppering their brows more so than Holland’s. Midas scoffs, flexing his fingers to adjust his hold the hilt of his sword. Davinia, aimed with multiple sets of knives, keeps a few steps behind the two as Midas walks up beside Holland and further forward, closer to me.

“Think you could kill another of us, did you?”

“I didn’t kill Farrah.”

“Bullshit, we saw the knife in her neck and the knives you’ve got. Do you think we’re blind?”

“I never said wasn’t there, I threw a knife at her, but I wasn’t the one to kill her.”

“Yeah right, you think you can claim someone else is nearby to give yourself a chance to escape. You’re not leaving here, you hear me?” Midas raises his voice to a booming shout. “You’re dead!”

The earth begins to groan and tremble furiously, knocking me to my knees. Midas and Davinia lose their footing, tumbling backwards while Holland lets go of his spear, the weapon rolling towards me as the ground continues to shudder beneath us. Now is my only chance.

I grab the spear, planting one foot firmly on the ground and throw the spear amidst the chaos of the earthquake. Holland drops to the ground, a cannon firing in the air drowned out by the continual alien sounds of the earth. Davinia glances at the spear in Hollands chest, rage flaring up on her face, and she throws a knife which buries itself into my shoulder. I rip it out, returning it with as much fury and it lands in her thigh with a crippling howl. The earth stops trembling.

Midas gets to his feet, face red and puffy with fervent anger. As he steps towards me, however, he pauses upon hearing a resonating crunch in the air. I glance up first and my eyes widen in fear.

The dam is breaking, water spurting out of the cracks as they travel across the concrete barrier. The more cracks, the more water starts spraying out and the deeper the cracks become until chunks of the dam break off and water begins gushing out in jets. I scramble backwards, down the hill towards the edge of the forest further down. I need to find a tall, sturdy tree to climb up before the wave reaches me.

I don’t need any more motivation to move, scuttling to my feet and racing down the hill. As the earth is reverberating with the dam falling apart, it’s difficult to find sure footing and multiple times I tumble to the ground, bruising and bloodying my knees and arms. My heart is pounding, deafening in my ears and my shallow breathing does little to calm it down. Fifty meters down the hill, on the very edge of the forest I find a tree with a wide trunk and wide branches. With no time for second-guessing I sprint towards it and start scaling it as fast as my arms and legs will let me. Once I’ve six meters up the water hits, not a meter below where my foot hangs over the edge of a branch and I pale considerably. The more I climb, the higher the water gets until I can’t climb any higher, the branches becoming too thin to hold my weight, and I resort to looping my arms and legs around the trunk, clutching on for dear life. The water continues to rise, chilling my legs and hips until my entire lower body is submerged. I rest my head against the trunk, tears falling down my face and the force of the water threatens to dislodge my legs and send me soaring into the heart of the arena. Cannons booms every few seconds, some overlapping as more tears stream down my face. I feel my fingers lose their grip on each other and the trees around me begin to fall, roots too weak to stand against the force of the wave. These trees surge the water up, drenching me and sapping the warmth from my bones. The cannons stop sounding. I turn my head to look around, waiting for the announcement. There were so many cannons, surely there’s no one left but me.

It doesn’t come. I twist my body around further to try to get a glimpse of the rest of the arena. Everything is flooded. The water has stretched out to every piece of land in the arena and in the near distance, I can see a body face down in the water. I whip my head back to hide in the trunk of the tree, taking a deep breath. The cornucopia. Find the cornucopia. I twist around the other side, the centre of the arena a little easier to view. The tail of the cornucopia pokes out of the water, marking the monument which is all but the roof submerged under the water. The golden roof looks like a small isle of sand amid the deep blue water and Annie’s words from training ring in my head. You’ll know something, it just won’t seem important until it you need it.

Swimming. I know how to swim. Glancing back up at the broken dam I try judge the currents towing under the surface, following a branch as it flies down the hill, right past me and veers right towards the forest on that side. It’s strong, and no doubt once I get near the cornucopia there will be one that tries to push me into it, dragging me under and trapping me inside. I’ll have to really work hard to reach the cornucopia. I inhale deeply, fighting to calm the beating in my chest. You have to go now, don’t think about anything else. One thing at a time.

I unravel my legs from around the tree, feeling the force of the water wanting to push me off but my hold with my hands is enough to stabilise me for now. I manoeuvre myself into a better position to push off from, angling myself perpendicular to the current to slow down my initial distance covered as much as possible. With another deep breath in, I use my bent legs to push off the branch, diving into the water and breaching the surface as soon as possible to follow my directions. The current not only pushes me along but drag my legs down too which means I have to keep them high and my body horizontal to keep me from being pulled under. There’s little time to adjust however as the last few bumps in the hillside approach in quick succession. I make strong strokes to centre myself between the potential split in the current, that way I have more of a chance of breaking through it and getting to the cornucopia. The first bump is of little concern, my head stays above the water and by pulling my legs as close to my chest as possible I can minimise the drag. The second is a little tougher as I have to recentre myself and swivel around to avoid turning away from the final dip. This means my legs are looser, kicking around to regain orientation. The third bump pulls me under without mercy.

The water is clear enough to see through but murky at the edges. The pressure above me feels like I’m being forced down by my shoulders, held down against my will and my heart hammers again. I kick with all my strength, taking deep, full arm strokes to get through this invisible boundary. My lungs start prickling, yearning for air, but I grit my teeth and push through the last current. My head breaks the surface, eyes darting around for a bearing, and I swim in that direction until the cool metal of the cornucopia rests under my palm. Using the mouth to grip onto, I pull myself up and hoist my body up onto the golden plateau, breathing heavily in exhaustion. I’m here. I can rest now.  
The sound of someone wading through water catching my attention and I turn my head to see who it is. “You’re kidding me.”  
Midas’ head and heavily muscled arms are above water, heading this way and I swear under my breath. I whimper when my knives are nowhere to be found and glancing around there’s nothing that can help me. There must be something – think Lia! He gets closer, his eyes finding mine and a manic, toothy grin stains his face. He swims faster and I shuffle as far back on the roof as I can. Is there a ban on gifts now? Probably, there never is a gift in the final battle. Shit, what do I do?  
Midas slams his hand on top of the roof, pulling himself up out of the water and I scramble to my feet. He swipes his hair back out of his eyes, clicking his knuckles and neck as he stalks forward.

“Now, where were we?”

He swings and I duck in the nick of time, lunging away to make space between us. My guard is up high, feet sliding over the metal which doesn’t provide much stability, but it will have to do. I have no choice but to adapt to it. He throws himself forward once again, this time aiming for my chest which I block with both hands, leaving my other side and face open. He takes advantage of that, nailing me in the side and grabbing the side of my head, throwing me to the ground. My head bounces with a loud thud and the pain flares up immediately; I swipe my feet around to get up a pace back from where I am, blood dripping down the side of my head as well as the blood freely flowing out of the knife wound in my shoulder. I am losing. I will lose if I continue trying to defend.

He comes forward again and I mirror him, stepping into the punch and ducking under, landing a gut punch before I coil my leg up to kick him in the ribs. He hisses but swipes at my leg, knocking me off balance. I stumble a little, taking time to regain my footing and take notice of the fact I’m at the edge of the metal. Water laps up onto the roof. He’s stronger, bigger and more experienced than me, I need to even the playing field. My brain suddenly clicks.

Midas lurches forwards again, arm rearing back for a throttling punch, and I duck under his arm once more. This time, however, I latch onto his back, locking an arm around his throat and bracing it with the other, and throw all my bodyweight forwards, hurling us into the water.

I squeeze tightly from the get-go, needing him to focus on loosening my grip so that he doesn’t try target my ribs or shoulder. I don’t know how much experience Midas has with being in the water and under it, but I’ll place my bets on the fact I have more. I control my heartbeats, calming myself down to sustain my breath, and keep my body as close to his as possible. He thrashes around, sneering and releasing little air bubbles from his mouth as he does so. One hand claws at my arm, the other tried to reach around to grab my hair. I extend my torso and neck as far as I can, head tilted back to escape that talon coming towards me. I squeeze my legs as tightly as I can, trying to put as much pressure on his ribs and chest as possible to sap out tolerance to hold his breath. MY own lungs start to prickle once more, warning bells going off in my head which I switch off immediately. Midas becomes frantic, the talon extended towards my face now joining its brother trying to peel my arm back. I notice us starting to float up with all the movement he’s making and expel a little of my air to make us drop further into the water. His actions become lethargic now, scratching easing into hopeless pats and strong kicks becoming little more than the occasional spasm. I bring my head closer, peeking around the side of his face to see the last flecks of fear in his eyes surrounded by red splotches of blood, burst vessels starting to make themselves known. This time I release the chokehold slightly, arms still around his neck but more as a weight to keep him under as he gasps for air, inhaling water and starting to drown. His body spasms, a gurgling noise reaching my ears before he stills. I count to ten, my lungs burning for breath.

10\. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.

I push myself off his body, propelling myself upwards to the surface and open my mouth a second before I emerge from the water. Water fills my lungs and I start coughing, spluttering and struggling to see where I am. With blurry vision, I head to the dark figure to my left, still choking on water and flailing around for purchase on the cornucopia. My wrist slams against the metal and I gravitate towards it, gripping the rim and willing myself to stop coughing up water. Breathe, Lia. Just breathe!

My throat feels raw, my lungs burn and through my distorted hearing I hear some of the words of the announcement. Black spots dot my vision, my hand losing grip and causing me to dip back underwater. My legs seize up, the burning in my shoulder radiating down my arm and partially immobilising it. The clear blue water is tinted red around me and the black spots wash over my sight. Blind me. Drag me under into a senseless sleep.

I come to surrounded by garish white lights and the low murmurs of people. My chest spasms and I roll onto my side, coughing and retching onto the sleek grey floor. Arms push me back onto the bed, holding me down while someone else shoves a tube down my throat.

“Hold your breath, exhale on my count.”

The machine the tube is connected to makes a noise and on ‘go’ I exhale, though I don’t really have a way in stopping that. Water flows up the tube and into the machine and just a quickly as it was put in, it’s taken out and I gasp as the raw pain in my throat and chest. A mask is put over my mouth and nose and a female with wide black eyes looks over me, grinning at me. “Take your time, you’re okay. You’re heading to the Capitol, there’s nothing to worry about. Just breath and calm yourself down.”

I nod, closing my eyes to shelter from the bright lights. After a minute or two, the mask is removed from my face and I open them again. “I’m heading to the Capitol?”

“You won. You’re the victor of the 70th Hunger Games.”

The ride is a blur of white lights and white noise. I’m the victor. I’m going home. I’m going to see my family again, my friends. Phiona and Wren. Finnick.  
The plane starts descending as I’m trying to put together all the things in my mind. The last thing, the only thing, I can remember is the water. I don’t know how it got there. I don’t know what happened before or after. There’s just water. The plane touches down and the medics assist me in sitting up, the males grabbing hold on one arm each as I stumble forwards, ready to drop to the floor with the immense exhaustion that presses down on me. They hold me up, dragging me towards the doors which have opened up and down the ramp, onto the hot concrete outside the tribute centre that’s barred from the public. The heat from the sun hits my skin and I sigh, the lingering chill in my bones thawing and I open my eyes – I didn’t even remember closing them.

Finnick stands near the entrance to the centre, peacekeepers on either side of him. “Finnick,” I call out, voice wrecked and sounding more like a wounded animal’s dying call than a human. The medics let go of my arms, seeing I have held myself up for a few seconds, and I throw my legs forward to get to him. I successfully take two, maybe three steps forward, before my knees cave in and I begin falling. Strong, warm arms catch me, wrapping around my cold, slight frame. A hand cradles the back of my head, bringing it to a firm chest with a thumping heartbeat, and a smooth voice whispers in my ear, “I’ve got you, you’ll alright, Lia. You’re safe. I’m right here. I’ve got you. I promise.” Smudges blur my sight, black and white obscuring the cream coloured shirt and bronze skin peeking out from beneath it. A heavy blanket of darkness takes over and I feel the floor open up beneath me.

This time when I wake, I come to slowly. There’s no choking on water or fear of needing air that jolts me awake. I feel sheets under my fingertips, smooth and warm and upon closer inspection, they’re a cotton grey. Not satin-like in the tribute centre. I turn my head slightly to look at the warm-lit space around me. There’s the bed I lay in, a bedside table with the lamp and a few pieces of jewellery sitting on top. There’s a single door and a small window showing nothing but black, and a desk where a pile of clothes sits folded waiting to be worn.

I pull myself into a sitting position, groaning when my head starts throbbing intensely. I hit it against the wall on accident when I tilt my head back, flaring the pain and releasing a hiss into the silent room. The door opens carefully, a mop of dark hair leading as Finnick enters. His eyes widen of a moment before a soft smile tugs at his lips.  
“The time you actually wake up and I’m out of the room, I should’ve expected as much.” He quips, closing the door behind him with a click. Before I know it, he’s sitting on the bed by my legs, a hand raised to tuck a strand of hair behind my ears. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. Tired. Heavy. My throat hurts.”

“I can go get some water for you-” my shoulders tense up at that, air caught in my chest. Finnick shakes his head, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “No water. A tea then, something warm.”

“No.” I stutter, tears welling up in my eyes. “Just stay. Stay and hold me. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t-” Finnick places a kiss on my forehead, using his fingertips to wipe away the falling tears. He urges me to shuffle across, sitting with his back to the wall like I had, and pulls me close with his arms enveloping me. My tears quickly turn into sobs. Sobs that rip through my throat, echo in my chest and rattle my weak, tired body until I feel that darkness return to coax me under once more. To drown me in a slumber that’s neither restful nor pleasant. Into a slumber of pain, of nightmares and memories and unforgivable things. Into a cursed sleep where no one wants me around, no one wants to see me because if I’m there Rhys isn’t. There’s no escaping that darkness once it’s got you in its sights.

So this is the life of a victor.


End file.
